


Awake My Soul

by wehangout



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, M/M, Mentions of Major Character Death, Minor Character Death, POV Second Person, Rimming, Torture, Violence, Voyeurism, mentions of past suicide attempt, plot heavy, slow building romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 16:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 73,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2513561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wehangout/pseuds/wehangout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So the hot guy is -”</p>
<p>“An angel.”</p>
<p>“And he’s from -”</p>
<p>“A parallel universe.”</p>
<p>“And he wants you to -”</p>
<p>“Kill the devil.”</p>
<p>At first Cas is just the hot stranger at the Roadhouse while Dean is working one night. What begins as harmless flirting turns into a multi-verse of death and destruction and a Bobby who doesn’t like him, where Dean is the only one who can do the most important job around - kill the devil. And people, people like Cas who matter more than they should, are keeping secrets from him. Important secrets. Soul-crushing secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [2014 deancasbigbang](http://deancasbigbang.livejournal.com/)
> 
> Huge thanks to my friend [Jess](http://sebastianfucker.tumblr.com/) for beta reading this, listening to me babble, and coming up with perfect solutions every single time I got stuck.
> 
> The beautiful art for this fic can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2499671/) , and has been made by the very talented [queernatural](http://queernatural.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://tinypic.com?ref=2emjsxw)
> 
> You can find me on my tumblr [here](http://snuggymickey.tumblr.com/)

**

PART ONE

**

You've had exactly two hundred and sixteen terror-filled dreams when it happens. When the crazy in your sleep finally trickles into your reality.

It's not like you keep count or anything, except that you totally do. In a _journal_ , at that. It was Jo's suggestion, and you scoffed at it for as long as you could, but the worse the dreams got, the more they needed an outlet. An outlet other than Jameson's and bar fights. Especially if you wanted to keep your job.

It's a Saturday morning, and that in itself is weird, because you dream on Tuesdays. Only Tuesdays. Since the week you arrived in town it's always been Tuesdays - a constant, once-a-week thing, where you have the most detailed, most _horrific_ dreams of your life. This particular dream involved a hot biker chick getting her eyes burned out during some kind of séance bullshit.

The whole dream is terrifying; you and three other people sitting at a round table - the hot chick, Bobby from the garage, and another dude you only know through these dreams. You're all holding hands around a table, and the only light comes from the candles that flicker shadows over your faces. Only the hot chick is talking and you can't hear a word she's saying, which just makes the whole thing even creepier.

But then she screams, and your brain decides there's no way you're going to miss out on that, and just when you think that's as bad as the dream is going to get - her shriek of utter _fear_ \- her eyes literally burst into hot-white flames.

It sucks, but it's not the worst dream you've had. Far from it. The worst you've had is dream number one hundred and twenty-eight, but you generally choose not to think about that.

You take a steadying breath and sit up, muscles aching and back creaking from the goddamn pool table you were sleeping on, and … huh. You were sleeping on the pool table. Right. You look toward your feet, where Jo is snoring loudly, blonde hair and black singlet both blurring slightly at the edges, and you don't remember falling asleep here, let alone top-and-tailing with Jo. But there she is and here you are and there's a damn good chance you're still a little drunk.

You rub at your eyes with the heels of your hands, wishing away the remnants of the most recent dream - nightmare, whatever - and appreciating when the black and blue spots that form behind your eyelids do just that. They linger when you stop, and it's a matter of blinking multiple times to get rid of them, but then it's more than just black and blue spots, and the usual blur that seems to surround everything …

A flash, bright and blue and barely lasting an entire second. It's so quick there's a chance you might have imagined it, a chance it was just a trick of the light during a steadying blink.

Such a good chance, particularly with the alcohol still flowing through your system and the dream you've just had, that you barely turn your head to lazily glance to your right. And when there's nothing there, you dig your cell phone out of your pocket and check the time.

You squint at the offending light your phone provides to the dark Roadhouse, then shove it back in your pocket. It's early. Too early to be awake, especially after a night drinking with Jo, because you and Jo have the same schedule at _The Roadhouse_ , which means a night drinking with Jo is a night drinking once the bar is closed. You don't even want to think about what time you actually passed out the night before … or, more likely, sometime that morning.

But you refuse to go back to sleep on this goddamn pool table, and if you have to be awake, then so does Jo.

You lick your dry lips, stare at her, and whisper, "Hey, Jo."

Nothing. You try again, and stage-whisper her name in a long sing-song. "Joanna _Be-eth_."

She doesn't even stir, and you're tempted to keep going, maybe get a little louder, start singing that song she really hates - because, hey, if you have to be woken by some chick getting her eyes burned out, then Jo should have to feel your pain - but your own still-drunk vibes are turning into the beginnings of a hangover and you don't need that kind of thumping in your head.

And anyway, the memory of your dream waking you gives you a better idea. You reach toward Jo and dig her phone out of her pocket with one hand, while using your other to dig out your own again. Once hers in your hand, you place your own next to her head and call yourself from her phone.

Moments later, the theme song to _The X-Files_ begins, and Jo wakes with the kind of grunting, un-ladylike noise you're not even sure there's a name for. She sits up, scrambles for the offending object, and throws it off the pool table. Once you're sure it's still in one piece, you turn and grin at her.

"Morning."

"Fuck you."

"Yeah, we tried that once. Didn't work out so great, remember?"

She reaches a sock-clad foot up to kick you in the ribs, and then lies back down. "Yeah, because you couldn't get it up."

You scoff. "Bullshit." Though it wasn't totally far from the truth. Jo's hot - or at least, she was hot then; now she's more pretty in a best-friend-but-let's-not-go-there kind of way - so you'd had no trouble getting it up, but the whole thing had been awkward and weird and just not right. The fact that she felt the same was probably the only thing that kept you from losing your balls when you stopped touching her.

Still lying down, she stretches her arms above her head, exposing her midriff that you're tempted to tickle, just to piss her off a little more. "Was that really necessary? You know that song give me the creeps."

"That's exactly why it was necessary."

"Hmph. What time is it?"

"Early."

"How early." She's quick, and manages to snatch her phone back before you realise she's going for it. "Sweet Jesus, Dean, it's not even six!"

"I know."

"So why the hell are we awake?"

You bite your lip, and it's not hard to decide against telling Jo about your nightmare. Sure, she's the one who suggested you write them all down, but the last thing you need is her trying to psycho-analyse why you're suddenly dreaming on Saturdays instead of Tuesdays. So you shrug.

"Man, I just woke up on a pool table. 6am or not, you really think I'm gonna go back to sleep on the damn thing?"

"Fair enough. But why am I awake?"

"I missed your charming personality."

She snorts. "Liar."

"Yeah. But like I said, I just woke up - still half drunk, probably - on a pool table; I need you to feel my pain."

"And that I do." She groans as she pushes herself up into a sitting position, and frowns at the table you're both sitting on. "How exactly did we end up here?"

"Not a clue."

"Huh." She continues to stare at the table, lids dropping slowly, and then blinks quickly a few times. "Well, I don't plan on staying here. You hear that? My bed is totally calling my name. You gonna head home?"

Bed does sound damn fine, but you don't want to go home. You don't know if it's because you're still too far over the limit to drive, because of the headache that's beginning right behind your eyes, or because you woke up from a nightmare on a Saturday. Whatever it is, you shake your head.

"Think I might stick around," you say, and follow Jo as she heads upstairs.

She nods like it's nothing, because it is nothing. In the four years you've lived in Sioux Falls, there's a good chance you've spent more time crashing on Jo and Ellen's couch than you have in your own apartment.

She crawls onto said couch when you reach the apartment above the bar, and snuggles in. "Mmm, soft."

"I thought your bed was calling your name?"

"It was. Still is." She closes her eyes and pulls her knees up to her chest. "Too far away."

"It's, like, another ten feet."

"Yep."

You grin. "Well, is it calling my name now? Because -"

"Get your ass over here, Winchester. You make a good pillow."

You've got a couple of options; go sleep on Jo's bed anyway, let her have the couch to herself and make some breakfast, or even pick Jo up and dump her into her own bed. Instead you grab the blanket off the back of the couch, sit next to her, and wrap it around the both of you. Jo makes a pretty good pillow, too.

You've made a habit of generally avoiding Bobby on Tuesdays. You go into the garage every now and then, when he's got a little extra cash and a little too much work to handle himself, and every Saturday around lunchtime. You grab a burger from the local Burger King, take him lunch, and use his tools and oil and whatever else you need to do up the Impala. 

The sole reason you ended up in Sioux Falls is because your crashed your baby into a tree near _The Roadhouse_ four years ago. You wouldn't say that's the reason you've stuck around … in fact, you had the money to fix her up a few months into your stay, but you just didn't want to leave. You like spending a couple of hours on a Saturday with Bobby, fiddling with the car, and learning new tricks. You like working at _The Roadhouse_ , where the discount on beer and whiskey is decent. And hell, you like Jo and Ellen and Bobby.

Sioux Falls was an accident, but it's the best one you've ever had.

"You payin' attention, boy?"

You suck on your teeth before letting your lips go with a _pop_. "Nope."

"And is there a reason for that?"

Not a good one, but you don't tell Bobby that. He mumbles something about paying you to do nothing, but you just grin and get back to work, letting the thrill of finally doing something - _having something_ \- you're good at take over. Growing up there was nothing to be good at, no opportunity to be good at something. Foster home to boys home to foster home didn't really give anyone much opportunity to discover any hidden talents - or much opportunity at all.

Hell, you're just lucky you didn't end up in prison like some of the guys.

Of course, suicidal at thirty wasn't much better.

You swallow back the sick taste in your mouth and forget about that; it didn't work, and you don't believe in God or fate or any of that shit, but you do believe there was a reason for it, a reason you couldn't succeed at something that should have been damn easy. You took far too many pills with far too much bourbon, hoping to end a life that literally meant nothing to anybody, and you still woke up the next morning.

If having three people you'd consider family, and not thinking about that night again for the rest of your life is the reason you're still around, then so be it. You're okay with that.

"Listen," Bobby says, voice gruff and reserved. "Somethin's come up and, if you're interested, I got some extra shifts for ya over the next few weeks."

You pause, head under the hood and wrench in hand, to stare up at him. The blue of his baseball cap blurs together so you can't tell where the cap begins and the brim ends. "Is, uh … is everything okay?" Because suddenly the idea of everything _not_ being okay with Bobby just isn't okay.

"Everything's fine. I'm just busy."

And there's such a dismissive tone to his voice, that you stand straight and grin. "Oh yeah? And what is it that has you so busy over the next few weeks? So busy you're willing to fork out more money for me to do more _nothing_?"

"None of your damn business, kid."

"You're gonna help Ellen, aren't ya?"

"Don't know whatcha talkin' about."

"Bullshit." You outright laugh at the glare he gives you. "She roped you into fixing the roof, didn't she? Jeez, old man, I know she serves you your beer, but how did she manage to suck you into that?"

"She didn't suck me into anything." And if the tips of Bobby's ears are red, you'd never tell. "I offered."

It all makes sense then, and it's the good kind of sense - the kind where two of the people you consider family seem to be getting closer, and it makes your heart do a weird swelling thing that you try and fail to ignore. Your parents died when you were three, then you grew up with foster siblings who were never anything more than bullies. Now your surrogate family is getting closer to being an actual family, and even if you have kind of invited yourself in to it, you couldn't be happier.

"So." You cross your arms over your chest and stare at Bobby. "Do I need to give you the talk?"

Bobby glares. "Boy, I'm old enough to be your daddy. Get your damn mind outta the gutter."

"I meant the if-you-hurt-her-I'll-break-you conversation. And ew."

He shakes his head at you and turns away to grab his beer off the bench, muttering an _idjit_ as he goes. You open your mouth to reply, probably call him an old man, when something out of the corner of your eye catches your attention.

Another flash, of the same blue-white colour, and ending just as quickly as the one that morning. And you know it's caused by the sun hitting a piece of glass or mirror just right, because when you turn to look, mouth still open, words on the tip of your tongue, there's nothing there. Nothing. Just the junkyard that looks exactly as it did when you arrived. The same Ford pickup is still sitting on blocks behind you, the same '65 Mustang with the busted hood is still to your right, and the same blur of the stray cat that always hangs around is still sunning itself next to the Combie painted with flowers and peace signs.

And it's the Mustang, sitting with it's back to you, shimmering in the sun that's so bright against its rear window that you have to squint. It's not the first time the glare from it has caught your eye, blinded you for a fraction of a second, and it probably won't be the last, either.

The random flash of blue-white happens twice more before you start your shift that night. The first time is in the frozen section of the local supermarket on your way home from Bobby's. You might spend more time sleeping at Jo and Ellen's than your own home, but you refuse to eat all of their food.

So you stock up on frozen pizza, pop tarts, and beer. And while you're trying to mentally count the money you think might be in your wallet, wondering if you have enough for a couple of bags of Cheetos - because, hey, you feed yourself, but you never said you do it well - there's a flash out of the corner of your eye.

You pause, because you're not drunk now, and there's no glaring sun inside the supermarket, and it's weird. You glance to the right again, and when there's still nothing there, you frown, quickly put it down to bad fluorescent lighting, and move on. You pick up your basket, go to grab your Cheetos, and leave.

But then it happens again while you're in the shower, and though it's easy enough to blame it on drops of water being in your eyes when it happens mid-blink, behind the shower curtain, you do begin to get suspicious because …

Because you already find it hard to see clearly, and everything kind of has a fuzzy haze around it 99.9% of the time, and …

What if you need glasses?

That would be a problem, and not for the reason Jo would tease you about for the rest of your life - which, screw her, you're a damn good-looking guy who would rock a pair of glasses - but because glasses are expensive. And you're broke. The money you had for your baby went toward the apartment not long after you decided to stick around. You make enough to get by, but any extra cash goes into baby, and you spent your last couple of bucks on those extra Cheetos.

You can't afford to get glasses, and your spend the entire drive to work hoping like hell you don't crash into something, run someone over, or hit someone's dog because you're actually going blind and just don't realise it yet … don't realise it, can't face it, whatever. There's not much difference there. You don't want to think about it. That's basically all it comes down to.

And even though you know you'd look hot as hell in glasses, you don't say a word to Jo about it when you get to work, but of course she's knows something's up. Jo simply has to look at you to know something's up, and it makes you wish - again and again and _again_ \- that you had known her your entire life.

But then you think about how things are now, and how things are really damn good now, and how if you'd known Jo since forever, then things might not be the same now, and how they might be the bad kind of different now … and then things get confusing, everything gets a little _too_ hazy, and you decide that having Jo now is good enough.

It's a busy night from the get-go, and you appreciate it because Jo's gaze lingers on you in every few seconds of quiet you have. And it's not easy to ignore. Jo's stare is never easy to ignore. Her eyes are like two little lasers that you just can't escape, and when she's pissed or you're guilty, you can feel the heat from those lasers from the other side of the room.

But she's not pissed and you're not _entirely_ guilty - not telling her something totally doesn't count as lying by omission - so you avoid her stare, pour drinks, flirt with girls, and at least pretend to ignore her.

You know she's watching, though, and it just adds to the stress of everything, and you end up making too many rookie mistakes for a guy who's bartended for almost four years now. First you pour Bobby the wrong beer because your brain just isn't working properly and you grab the blue lever on the left instead of the one on the right. Next you hand two girls gin and lemonade because you got the gin confused with the vodka. Lastly you short-changed the local sheriff because the only piece of money that wasn't blurring was the twenty he had handed you.

Then it's not just Jo watching you, but Ellen starts glancing your way every now and then, too.

It gets worse as the night goes on; there's no karaoke this weekend, so the old folks head home and the younger ones move on to clubs or parties, and it's only the regulars left. The quieter it gets the harder Jo is to ignore, and then finally, when the both of you are free of customers, the bar is spotless, and no one needs your attention, Jo is impossible to ignore.

You take a breath, ready to face her, not sure if you're about to tell her about your eyesight or the dream, when Ellen calls you over. You smirk at Jo, who flips you off, and follow Ellen into the back office.

"Everything okay, boss?"

"You tell me, Dean-o."

"Uh …" You pause, because it sounds like you're in trouble - Ellen has her _mom_ _face_ on - and you know you screwed up, but they were all honest mistakes. It's not like you were trying to rip-off the sheriff. And, yeah sure, you flirted with a couple of pretty girls, and there was that one hot guy you winked at, but Ellen doesn't care about that. She doesn't care what you and Jo talk to the customers about, so long as the customers pay and are legally allowed to drink.

When you take to long to continue, Ellen sighs. "What's going on, Dean? You've been off all night. You feeling okay?"

"Yeah. Totally."

"Don't bullshit a bulls hitter, kid."

And you know you're not going to get out of this without giving away _something_. The truth, probably; you can't lie to Ellen - you've never been able to and you don't think you ever will be able to. So you shrug, and play it off as no big deal.

"It's nothing. Think I need to get my eyes tested, is all."

"You having trouble seeing?"

"Yeah. Something like that."

"Is it bad?"

You shrug. "It's, uh, it's getting worse."

She nods. "Right. Well you make an appointment first thing Monday morning, you hear me?"

Your mouth opens and closes a few times while you try to figure out how to tell Ellen it's going to be a few weeks, maybe months, before you can even afford to get your eyes tested. You should have known there was no need.

"Relax," she says. "I'll give you the money for it before you leave tonight."

Your body goes stiff. "I'm not taking your money."

"No. You're taking your money. Consider it payment for helping Bobby fix my roof."

You grin. "You know, I would've fixed that old roof for free if you hadn't asked Bobby so quickly."

"Hey, you wanna work for free, I'm not about to stop you."

You purse your lips to keep in anymore smart remarks, because this is Ellen's version of helping you out without it being charity, and you love her for it because it's exactly what you need.

"And anyway," she continues, "asking Bobby to do it was just an excuse to get him around here more often. The Lord knows that man needs to eat better, and if I have to make it happen by giving him work to do then feeding him a home-cooked meal, then so be it.

"Uh-huh. Sure."

Arms folded across her chest, she glares at you. "Make your damn appointment, then get your ass up onto that roof. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am." You quickly kiss her cheek and head back into the bar.

It's even quieter now, with only a couple of tables taken, and a fuzzy Jo and Ash fighting over what to put on the jukebox. But there's also a guy at the bar who you immediately notice. And really, though, it's just some guy - jeans and t-shirt, messy hair, glass of beer, the usual - but something about him catches your attention, and it catches it enough that everything around you becomes nothing but a buzz, a background hum.

You don't know if it's his intensely blue eyes, his shock of dark hair, or the fact that not a single smidgen of him is blurry.

He's crystal clear, from the strands of hair sticking up right down to his hands that spread flat on the bar. They're nice hands, from what you can see - long fingers, short nails, definitely a callus or two …

You blink a few times and swallow through the dryness in your mouth, because all of this should be fucking great, especially after your recent fear that you might need glasses, but all it does is confuse you, put you on edge, because he's at the other end of the bar and you haven't been able to see this well since your pill-taking, bourbon-swilling incident.

You realise you're staring the same time you realise he's staring right back, and not in a creeped-out-by-your-staring kind of way; it's the weird kind of staring where you're not sure if you should be flattered or disturbed. Because it's intense and it's strong. It's a deep, heavy stare that looks straight through you and into your soul.

"Um …" You clear your throat and head towards him. "Hey there."

He nods, slow and concentrated, before replying, and when he does, the timber of his voice is all you can think about. "Hello."

"I, uh - can I get you a drink?"

He frowns. "I already have one."

You glance at the beer you knew was right in front of him, then you're right back to staring into those eyes of his. "Right. Yeah. I knew that."

And if all of your staring and clarity is just because the guy is fucking beautiful, then you're really screwing up any chance you could possibly have of him being into you. Except that he keeps staring, and the more he stares at you, the harder he squints until it's his eyesight you're worried about.

Though it doesn't escape your notice that you don't stop staring back, and it's not until there's an awkward cough behind you that you snap out of it. Jo's a few feet away, pretending to reorganise the liquor shelf, and you don't know if you should be pissed at her attempts at eavesdropping, or glad that she yanked you out of whatever fucking trance you were in.

You lick your lips, roll your shoulders a few times, and begin to feel like yourself again, though everything else going on in the bar is still a background hum. You grin at the guy with the eyes. "You from around here?"

He smiles softly. "No, not at all."

"Yeah? Where you from?"

"Somewhere … else."

You grin. "Mysterious."

"You could say that," he says, and if he wasn't still staring at you so intently, you'd say that was it, that was the brush off.

"So, uh, what brings you to Sioux Falls?"

He looks away and take his time in answering. His hands clasp on the bar, fingers interlocked in a way you're oddly fond of, and even with is head lowered, you cans see the small frown lines on his face.

"I was looking for someone," he finally says.

"Oh yeah? Well I lived here a while now. Maybe I can help you find them?"

He takes a long drink before replying. "I - I think I might have already found … them."

"Okay. Great." Totally great. It's not like you know _everyone_ in town, anyway, and there's a good chance you like only half of who you do know, so you probably wouldn't have been much help … but you wanted to at least pretend to help, if it meant the conversation went on a little longer.

Turns out you don't need to try so hard.

"You seem … very familiar," he says, and you grin.

"Dude. Really?"

"Yes. I feel like we've met before."

You're pretty sure you'd remember meeting him before, remember those eyes, but you keep that to yourself. "If this is your original take on ' _have we met?'_ then I like it."

"I don't understand."

" _Have we met?_ You know, the pick-up line."

"Oh. I see." He lowers his head and smiles softly. "Well, I'm afraid that wasn't supposed to be a flirtation. At least, not an intentional one."

You're not exactly sure what he means by that, so you just nod and grab a rag to start wiping down the spotless bar. You ignore Jo's snort of laughter as she goes to serve another customer.

"How long have you lived here?" he continues, and he's staring at you again. You smile and lean against the bar, getting comfortable because, flirtation or not, he wants to keep talking to you.

"Four years now."

"Four years."

"Yep. Give or take a couple of months."

He nods slowly. "And what brought _you_ to Sioux Falls?"

Well now that's a question and a half, but you doubt this guys wants the full depression-slash-attempted-suicide story that ends with your desperate need to get the hell out of dodge. So you stick with the quick version. The simple one. The one most people consider to be true.

"This is where my car broke down," you say. "Well, it's actually where I crashed it. Right across the road, into the tree on the corner."

"And you just decided to … stick around?"

He looking at you with such concentration, such focus, that you almost feel bad for not telling him the whole truth. So you spill a little more. "Yeah. It's not like I had anywhere else to be, you know? I was just taking a bit of a road trip, I guess, and then my car needed fixing, and because I didn't have the money to fix her I had to get a job and … well, it all just fell into place."

"I see."

You smirk. "Might not sound like much of a story, but I'm probably the most interesting guy you'll meet in this place."

He gives that small smile again. "The town or this bar?"

"Both."

Instead of answering, he just stares at you and you stare right back, and there's a tiny thought in the back of your mind that this is just like one of those moments in the chick-flick movies you and Jo marathon every Monday. But you ignore it, because this guy's eyes are striking in their summer blue, and you kind of want to grab the nearest napkin and wax poetic about them.

"Where did you live before here?" he asks, breaking the silence … and the moment, but whatever, you don't actually _have_ moments with people anyway, so it doesn't matter. Even if you were ready to write a novel on the way his eyelashes moved when he blinked.

You clear your throat and stand up straight. "Uh, I travelled across the country for a while, but the last place I stuck around in was Blue Earth, Minnesota."

"Did you like it there?"

Nope. "It was alright."

"What made you leave?"

"Oh, you know. Life."

He nods like he understands. "Life can get tough at times."

"That's putting it lightly."

"If Blue Earth was the last place you stuck around, then where was home?"

You pause before answering. "Man, this is home." And even though it's an easy answer, it's still kind of depressing that it's taken you this long to find someplace you can call home.

"You must really like it here," he says, not looking at you and sounding almost … sad. Before you can answer, though, he relaxes his body and looks back up at you. "Tell me about your family."

You lean against the bar, hands flat on either side of you. "Damn, you're just full of questions. When do I get to ask some?"

He looks surprised for a moment, but then smiles again. "What would you like to know?"

You go easy on him. "You got a name?"

"Everyone has a name."

"Fine, smartass. What's your name?"

"Cas."

"Nice to meet ya, Cas, I'm Dean." You stand up and hold out a hand for him to shake, which he takes without thought, but the moment his skin comes into contact with yours, there's a hot, tingly sensation on your left shoulder. It doesn't exactly hurt - more like the feel of Deep Heat on your skin than anything painful - but it's uncomfortable enough that you pull away and fidget slightly.

"Do I get to ask a question now?" he asks.

"Uh, yeah, sure, man."

"Tell me about your family?"

You wave an arm around to indicate the bar. "This is it, man."

"The patrons of this bar are your family?"

"Not all of them, and not biologically, but Bobby, Ellen, and Jo are the closest thing I've ever had to family."

"Bobby, Ellen, and Jo," he repeats.

"Yeah. Bobby's the old guy in the corner, wearing the baseball cap. He's helping me put my car back together. Slowly."

Cas nods. "You must be very grateful to him."

"Yeah, he's a good guy." You reach up to pub at the back of your neck. "Kinda like the old man I never had, I guess."

And you don't know why you say it, because it might be true, but Cas is a stranger, and you have to be halfway to shit-faced before you even mention your parents to Jo. Something about him, though, something about his eyes and the way he stares and how well you can see him just … it both puts you at ease and makes you incredibly uneasy.

But it's the good kind of uneasy. The kind you sort of like.

"You weren't close with your father?" he asks, not meeting your gaze, and the fact that it's your turn to ask a question doesn't seem to matter.

"My parents died when I was young."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Dean."

You shrug. "Yeah, well. It was a long time ago, and I turned out okay, you know?"

"And what about your brother? How did he turn out?"

"I …" You frown. "Dude, I don't have a brother."

His head snaps up and he stares at you. "You don't have a brother?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

You chuckle, but it's forced and you suddenly feel uncomfortable. "Yeah, man, I'm pretty sure."

"Completely sure?"

"What? You think that's something I'd just forget about?" And you don't know why this turn in conversation is pissing you off, but it is.

Cas looks away again. "I apologise. I just thought -"

"Like I said, my parents died when I was three. They never got the chance to have another kid."

"I … I see."

"Yeah."

Cas tilts his head, does that weird squinty thing, and what should have been awkward silence between the two of you during your first staring contest is officially that. Finally he stands and throws some money onto the bar.

"I should leave. Thank you for the drink."

Your heart sinks in a way it really shouldn't, because whatever could have been is totally not going to be, and was probably nothing to begin with. You stay silent, rubbing your tongue against your teeth, and watch Cas leave the bar.

"You're an idiot," Jo says, wrapping clean gauze around your hand, and you nod, because you knows this, but sometimes it just comes out in the worst ways. Like not paying attention when scooping up a broken bottle of beer, and ending up with a deep slice right down your left palm.

"It's not a big deal," you say. "Just a cut."

But you stare unblinkingly at the wall behind her, not once looking at your hand and the warm blood spilling out of it. It makes your stomach churn just thinking about it.

"A cut that you got by sticking your hand into a pile of glass. Seriously, Dean, you're lucky you don't need stitches. What's up with you tonight?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit."

"It's nothing."

She tugs the gauze extra tight, causing you to barely wince, and stares up at you. "I've been watching you all night. One minute you're serving up a Bud Light instead of a Miller Light, and the next you've got your best game face on while flirting with that hot dude."

"What hot dude?"

"Ha." She continues to fake laugh, and you can't even bring yourself to roll your eyes at her. " _What hot dude_ , he says … yeah, okay, Dean. Because you didn't spend twenty minutes telling that guy who barely drank half his beer your entire life story."

"No, actually, I didn't." You didn't. Really. You told Cas more than you should have, considering the guys is a complete stranger, but in the literal sense, Jo is totally wrong.

"You gonna be okay to drive?" she asks, and secures the bandage with a bit of tape. "If you want to wait around until closing I could get Ash to give you a ride, but since Mom's being soft and letting you go early, you don't really deserve one."

"You're such a good friend."

She grins and gets to her feet. You follow, and after a quick thank you kiss to her forehead, you take off while she puts the first-aid kit away … and before she can begin to really fuss. Because joking that you don't deserve a ride home or not, you know Jo is truly worried about how you've been acting all night.

And you can't really blame her.

You wave to Ash as you follow a couple of stumbling regulars out the door, and you're damn glad to see one of their wives there to pick them up, because you would offer them a ride home if it meant keeping them from driving, but you really don't _want_ to.

Smirking slightly at the bored look on the wife's face, you head towards your car and pause becomes someone's leaning against it. Cas is leaning against it.

You stare at him, pretty sure you should be calling the local sheriff because some dude you flirted with is so pissed off that you don't have a brother that he's going to become one of those jilted almost-lovers-turned-axe-murderers …

Clearly you've been watching too much CSI.

But still, you only take a few steps towards your car before stopping. "Uh … hey?"

"Hello, Dean."

His voice does nothing to calm you, because while he had been warm and unintentionally flirtatious inside, he's now cool and detached. You eye him up a moment, wondering exactly what he's doing here, and then step closer. Even if he is some kind of dangerous, you've got a good inch on him, and a couple of pounds of muscle. Maybe.

"What do you want?"

"I just have a simple question."

"You don't think you've asked enough questions for one night?"

He cocks his head. "Do you believe in God?"

You sigh, and don't bother with the obvious _what the fuck?_ Whatever shock you might have experienced in slicing your hand open has dissipated, and the wound is definitely beginning to sting. All you want to do is go home and crawl into bed.

"You know, can't say I do."

"No, I don't suppose you would. Not that I can blame you. If I didn't know for a fact He existed, I probably wouldn't believe, either."

"Oh, man, is that what this is about? You're trying to get me to join your church or religious group or - or shit, are you trying to get me to join a _cult_?"

"No, of course not."

"Then what the fuck is this, Cas -"

"Castiel." He steps closer. "My name is Castiel."

"Okay, Cas _tiel_. Whatever it is you're selling, I'm pretty sure I ain't buying."

"I'm not selling anything," he says, so damn seriously that all you can do is stand and stare, mouth hanging open. He ignores you and continues talking. "Dean, my name is Castiel, and I am an angel of the Lord."

You cough out a choked laugh. "Yeah. Okay. And I'm Batman."

"No you're not."

Your entire hand begins to throb, but you take a steady breath and step closer to Cas … Castiel.

"Look, man, how much did you have to drink before you came here tonight? If you need me to call you a cab -"

"I had three coffees with Bobby before I arrived here tonight, but if you're referring to alcohol then the answer is none."

"Wait, what? Coffee with Bobby?"

"With _a_ Bobby, yes."

"So not Bobby Singer?"

"Well, it was definitely a version of Bobby Singer."

You realise this guys must be crazy. Or high. You opt to ask for the latter, thinking it's probably safer.

"Man, what are you on?" You smirk. "Maybe I am buyin' after all."

He scowls at you. "I'm not _on_ anything. I'm telling you the truth, Dean. I'm an angel, and I need your help."

"Locked outta Heaven or something?"

"No … well, yes, actually. But that's not what I need help with."

You're beginning to think that maybe you're the one who needs help. Maybe you cut your hand worse than you remember, and you've lost a hell of a lot of blood, and you're actually just inventing this whole conversation in your head.

You clench your fists, concentrate on the pain in your left palm, your inability to make a fist due to the bandaging, and you know this is real.

"I - I'm doing this all wrong. Let me start again." He stares at the ground a moment before taking a step closer. "This - where we are right now - is just one of many realities, many universes. And the universe I come from? It's - it's ruined. It's the apocalypse. Lucifer was set free and has taken over the world."

Alternate universes, the apocalypse, Lucifer? You're not sure where to begin, so you don't. You nod slowly and begin a cautious semi-circle around Castiel and toward your car. Your hand throbs in your jacket pocket, but you continue to clench and unclench your fist as you go, watching Castiel turn on the spot to keep up with you.

"Okay. And, uh, what is it exactly you need me for?"

"Simple," he says. "I need you to kill the devil."

You stop and stare. "Dude. You're crazy."

He gives a half-shrug. "In some realities, yes, but not this one. Or my own one."

You're close enough to make a break for it. There's only a few feet between you and the driver's side of your car, and though you don't think Castiel is out here to hurt you, you definitely don't want to stick around to hear anymore of his bullshit.

You finger the keys in your pocket and take another step toward your car. "Well, this has been great, but I better get going."

"Dean, please. If you don't do this, then you will be in grave danger."

Okay. And now you're just getting pissed off. "Man, I've had it up to here with your bullshit, and now you're threatening me?"

"I - no. Of course not."

"Then get the hell outta my way so I can go home to bed."

It takes a good thirty seconds for Castiel to finally move away and stop staring at you, and the second he does, you climb into your car and peel out of the parking lot.

You wake with a start. Your head and hand both throb, and your vision still swims with the image of Jo with her guts ripped open. Literally ripped open, blood flowing over her fingers, actual insides slipping to the floor -

You end up puking into your waste basket not seconds after waking, and it's not the blood or the guts that's the problem; it's Jo, lying there, unable to move, _dying_.

You refuse to dwell on it, refuse to even think about it, because Jo is the best fucking thing that has happened to you, and you just can't stomach her sudden appearance in your dreams. You'll take torture and digging up graves and the all-too-real stench of sulphur any day, so long as Jo stays out of your dreams.

Reminding yourself to get rid of that wastebasket, you head to the bathroom, rinse with mouthwash, brush your teeth, then rinse again, just to get that sick taste out of your mouth, because there's some stupid idea in your head that getting rid of that taste will get rid of the memory of that dream.

Which, of course, is bullshit. You're not sure there's anything out there that will get rid of any of your dreams. You head down the hallway towards the kitchen, and not writing that dream down in your little journal isn't even a discussion.

You get to the end of the hallways, and something is on you before you even have the chance to register that you're not alone. Mind still on Jo, all you can do is go with the weight as you're pushed against the wall, and only a surprised grunt comes out before a hand clamps over your mouth.

You make your eyes focus, and it's disturbingly easy.

Castiel is in front of you, one hand pressed to your mouth, the other arm held against your chest, and it's not a lot of restraint, but shit, even if you were paying attention, you're not sure you could have stopped this because, damn, that is some strength. And he doesn't look at all perturbed. Truth be told, you're half way to terrified, but Cas' gaze is calm as he stares at you, blue eyes bright in the morning-lit hallway.

He tilts his head. "I'm going to remove my hand from your mouth, but I need your word that you won't scream."

You own gaze flits between his eyes, and eventually you nod. You don't know why you agree, and even more than that, you don't know why you agree honestly. Sure, screaming isn't going to get you anywhere anyway, but it makes more sense than just standing here and letting this guy do as he pleases.

Cas uncovers your mouth, very slowly, and moves his hand up. You watch, frown at the two fingers he's holding out, and pull back sharply as he goes to lower them to your forehead.

"Dude, what are you -"

"Don't. Talk."

You swallow back the words that are stuck in your throat, and wait. Two words or two hundred - the dude is scary. Cas' fingers continue their journey. They press to your forehead, and you wince, expecting a shock of pain, instant death, _something_ , but you get nothing. Just a slight warmth that floods through you.

Cas steps away and you gape at him.

"What did you just do to me?"

"I healed you."

"Come again?"

"I healed you. The cut in your hand should be gone, as though it never existed in the first place."

You continue to stare, but it doesn't escape your notice that the throbbing sting in your hand _is_ gone. So is the headache you woke up with, and the slight scratch at the back of your throat from throwing up. You tear at the bandage Jo wrapped around your palm the night before, and Cas is right; there's nothing there - no scab, no scar, no sign that it had ever happened.

You clear your throat and fidget from foot to foot, thinking of something to say. "So. You … heal people?"

"Occasionally."

"Right." You nod, and you're not sure why you're not freaking the fuck out. A part of you is, definitely, but mostly you're calm … accepting. Because it sounds fucking insane, just like everything he said the night before, but there's no denying that the guy just healed you.

Then again …

You stare at your hand, take in the smooth skin, and wonder if you're still dreaming. It wouldn't be the first time you dreamed something that wasn't violent, but still definitely fucked up.

"How do I know this is real?" you ask, lifting your head to look at Cas.

"You think you're … dreaming?"

"It's been known to happen."

"Are your dreams usually this detailed?"

You snort. "Man, you have no idea."

He sighs. "I assure you that this is very real, but if there's some way you can think of for me to prove it to you, other than healing you, of course …"

There's not. The idea of falling until you wake crosses your mind, but that doesn't seem like the best idea, especially when you actually believe this shit is legit, more than you believe it to be another dream.

"So …" you say again, still thinking. "You healed me because you're an angel?"

"I healed you to make a point. I am able to heal you because I'm an angel."

You blow out a breath. "Yeah, I'm gonna need a drink for this conversation. Coffee?"

He looks surprised, but follows you into the kitchen. "Please."

You go about making the coffee, thinking through the crazy, because as true as it all might be, it's still fucking weird. The dude's an angel, who healed you. An angel who drinks coffee … with Bobby?

"Everything else you said last night, that's true, too?"

"I never lied to you, though I don't think I went the best way about telling you everything."

"And you think breaking into my apartment and manhandling me is a better way to go about things?"

He shrugs. "It worked. And, technically, I didn't break in."

"Then how did you get in?"

"I flew."

"Of course." Of fucking course. You turn away to pour two coffees, and wonder how you're going to get through the following conversation without losing your mind. Back still to him, you make a start. "I guess we've got a lot to talk about, huh?"

"Yes. And I would assume you have a lot of questions."

You smirk. "Yeah, but I ain't exactly sure where to begin there, so, uh, you go first, and I'll ask questions when I have them."

"That sounds fair." He takes the coffee you hand him, but doesn't move to get comfortable as you lean back against the counter. "I'll try to keep things as simple as possible."

"Super."

He ignores your sarcasm. "As I said last night, I'm an angel of the Lord. One of the only few left on earth, actually."

"In your reality or mine?"

"Mine," he says, and this time you think he completely missed your snark. "Most of the angels left not long after Sam said yes to Lucifer."

You frown. "Okay. And who's Sam?"

"Sam is your brother."

"Oh, right, the brother I never had."

Cas sets his untouched coffee on the bench. "In every other reality I've visited, your brother very much exists. Or existed."

"Okay, and what exactly did he say yes to?"

"Sam is the perfect vessel for Lucifer, but Lucifer is an angel. He always needed Sam's permission to enter him."

Your stomach rolls, because of everything you've heard _this_ is what you find disturbing. "Enter him as in … like, live inside of him?"

"I suppose you could put it that way. He uses Sam's body as a suit, so to speak. And once he's wearing it, he has complete control over it. It's a form of possession."

"Jesus."

"Once he had the perfect vessel, it didn't take long for him to start the apocalypse. The world, my world, is ending, and you're the only one who can stop it."

"Me?" And if your voice squeaks a little, you'll never admit to it.

"Yes."

"Why me?"

Cas looks sad as he steps closer to you. "Because you're the only Dean I've met who never had a Sam to get emotional over."

You swallow hard; you don't like this talk of the brother you never had. It makes you uncomfortable, and the more Cas talks about him, the quicker the headache he healed begins to come back. You take a long mouthful of scalding coffee and change the subject slightly.

"These realities. How many are there exactly?"

"One hundred and eighteen."

"That's … that's exact."

"I'm an angel, Dean, I don't use guesswork."

You stand a little straighter and set your own coffee cup down. "Then how do you know? How do you know I'm the Dean you need? I mean, how many of these alternate universes have you been to?"

"One hundred and fifteen."

Oh. "Well, I mean, that - that still leaves three, right? Maybe the Dean you're really after is in one of those realities."

Cas sighs. "Would it make you feel better if I checked them out?"

You shrug. "Do whatever you want, man."

"Would it make you more susceptible to the things I have to say if you really are the only Dean without a Sam?"

And you get it, you do; why would any other Dean, any Dean who grew up with a Sam, want to kill someone in their brother's body? Devil or not, that wouldn't be easy.

You nod. "You check the other three places, and then we'll talk more seriously. In fact, if I am the only Dean without a Sam, then I'll listen to everything you want to tell me."

"Very well." Cas pulls out a knife, and your heart begins to pound.

"Dude, what are you -" Your words die in your throat as he slices his own arm open. You watch in horror as a blood oozes out of his arm, and your eyes go slightly unfocused for just a few seconds. But then Cas goes to the opposite wall and begins to paint his own blood over it. It's sick and it's disgusting and it's fascinating as hell. You step up behind him. "Dude. What are you doing?"

"Visiting the other Deans, as per your instructions."

"No, I mean, the blood -"

"It's a sigil. This is how I move between universes. It's very tiring, though. I don't recommend doing it more than a few times a day."

"Right."

He sighs, stroking the wall with his blood. "Of course, I lost count of how many times I came through to find you yesterday. Unfortunately you and I seem to have a case of very bad timing."

"What do you mean?" You can't take your eyes off the blood on the wall, and your stomach is nauseas, but you try to pay attention to Cas and what he's saying.

"Every time I managed to get to you, you were never alone. Well, you were once, but you were showering, and I've learned from past experience that you're not so fond of a Cas from another universe just popping into the shower with you."

There's an obvious joke somewhere in there, but your mind is on something else. "That was you? All those flashes I saw yesterday?"

"Flashes? Yes, I suppose it was. Sarah did once compare my arrivals home to flashes."

"Sarah? Who the hell is … wait, never mind. I - I need you to go and do whatever it is you're going to do, because I need to just take a moment. To, you know, absorb."

"Of course." He turns to face you slightly, and you notice there's not a drop of blood on him anywhere, and his arm looks perfectly fine. "I'll see you soon, Dean."

"Yeah. Okay."

He faces the wall again and presses a palm flat to it. He mumbles a few words you don't understand, then there's that same flash, and he's gone, leaving the wall completely blood free.

You try to absorb. You sit and try to take it all in, but it's hard when you know there's so much missing, so much you don't yet know or understand. And, in all seriousness, you're not all that sure you want to know it all, because it's pretty fucked up enough as it is. Adding more is just going to mess with your head.

Mess with it more, that is.

You tick off what you know - what you _now_ know - or at least believe to be true.

One. Angels exist. They're kind of dicks, but they can heal people, so that's something. You don't necessarily like the way Cas has gone about any of this, and you don't like most of what he's had to say, but if he's healed others, then you can't fault him too much.

Two. Lucifer exists. He's also taken over another world, started the apocalypse, and lives in the body of the brother you never had. Speaking of …

Three. Apparently you have a brother in at least one hundred and fourteen of the one hundred and eighteen universes that exist.

Four. Other universes exist.

You blink. You're on your couch, cold coffee in hand, and you've just ticked off four _things_ that should totally be screwing you up, but instead you sit quietly and calmly and do nothing. Just sit and stare and breathe, and you should be freaking out, you should be in complete and utter denial, you should be admitting yourself to a psyche ward.

You get up to make a fresh coffee, because if there's one thing you hate, it's cold coffee. Hell, you hate coffee that isn't hot enough to burn, and sweet enough to put holes in your teeth, and why the hell are you contemplating coffee when you're whole world is -

Is what? You don't even know. Cas' world is falling apart - you can't seem to let go of the word _apocalypse_ \- but your world seems fine! Totally normal. Awesome, even.

You don't realise how late it's getting until Jo knocks at your door, box of pizza and a six pack in hand. She screws up her face at the sight of you, and you push away the memory of this morning's dream that's threatening to bare its ugly head again.

"Did you even get dressed today?"

You're in last night's jeans and a t-shirt, so you just shrug and let her in. As usual, she interprets your mood and doesn't start asking questions right away. You know it won't last - not only does she want to help you, but she's also nosy as hell and you know she wants to know what's going on - but you take the hour of silence she gives you. You eat your pizza, drink your beer, and wonder when Cas will be back.

Marty McFly's mom is totally flirting with him at the dinner table when you can't keep quiet any long.

"Jo?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you believe in …" You pause, because you don't even know what to call it.

"Magic? In a young girls heart? How the music can free her whenever it starts? Why, yes, Dean, yes I do."

You glare at her stupid grin. "That's not what I was going to say."

"No kidding."

"God." You blurt it out, not sure why you're going with that when it didn't do Cas any good last night. "Do you believe in … God?"

"Oh. Uh … nope. No. I don't."

"What about other stuff - God stuff. You know, angels, demons, heaven, and hell."

"Heaven and hell? Absolutely." She frowns, and you know she's thinking about her dad and the drunk driver who killed him. "Angels, though? I dunno, but it would be nice, right? Halos and good deeds and all that awesome shit."

"Healing."

"Yeah, I suppose angels would heal people. Kids especially."

You nod, take a gulp of beer, and wonder how many kids Cas has healed. "Angels would be good."

"Mmhm. Well, except Lucifer, obviously." She says it so matter-of-factly, and it parallels your morning conversation with Cas so intensely, that you sit in silence for a moment, stunned.

You clear your throat. "What about, uh, non-God stuff?"

"And _non-God_ stuff would be?" she asks, clearly eyeing up the last piece of pizza.

"I mean other weird stuff. You know … alternate realities." And it sounds stupider saying it out loud to Jo than it did talking about it to Cas.

"Like parallel universes?"

"Yeah. Yeah, exactly like that!"

She turns to face you, eyes wide and amused. "Wow. You're surprisingly excited about this."

"It's just - it's … I'm curious."

She smirks. "Yeah, _that_ I know."

"About your beliefs, dork."

"Okay, so, parallel universes? God? Heaven and Hell? And I missed anything?"

"Demons."

She pales. "Oh man. This is - is this about your dreams?"

And it honestly hadn't occurred to you before. You're not sure how it fits, how you could be having dreams to do with anything that Cas has told you, but it suddenly seems to fit. You and Jo both know there's some fucked-up demon/hell/killing stuff going on in your dreams, and from what Cas has said, it's not far from his reality.

So you shrug. "It could be."

"Fess up, Winchester. What's going on?"

Just the opportunity to tell Jo what's going on lets a weight off your chest. So you start, unsure where you're going with it, and pretty unsure about everything you're saying as a whole.

"Uh, remember the guy from last night? Turns out he's an angel from another universe, and he's needs me to help save his world?" And, yeah, it comes out as a question. And, yeah, a part of you does hope Jo just nods along and accepts it without a word, as though it's just another part of everyday conversation.

"What the hell are you talking about?" She throws a snort in for good measure. You hold out your uninjured hand, and she stares, frowns, her eyes widen. "Holy _fuck_!"

"Yeah."

"There was a cut there last night!"

"Yep."

"I mean, it wasn't a huge cut, didn't need stitches or anything, but it was a cut and there was blood, and now …"

"Cas healed it."

"Cas?" she asks, and her voice is barely a whisper.

"They guy. The hot guy."

She squints. "He healed it? You really expect me to believe that?"

You shrug, and say the one thing that's made you believe everything Cas has said. "Can you think of any other explanation for where it's gone?"

"I - no, but …" She trails off with nothing else to say because there is nothing else to say. You let her sit in silence and take in what you've told her, because even that is fucking huge.

You finish your beer and grab yourself another. The _Enchantment Under the Sea_ dance is in full swing by the time Jo begins talking again.

"You know this makes you sound crazy, right?"

"Maybe." Definitely, but you hold up your healed hand. "I'm not the only one seeing things, though."

"Jesus."

"Yep."

"So the hot guy is -"

"An angel."

"And he's from -"

"A parallel universe."

"And he wants you to -"

"Kill the devil."

Jo gapes, then nods for far too long. "Well then, that's just … I don't even know. I feel like I should have some witty comment to throw back at you, but I got nothin'. This is fucked up."

You frown. "Which part?"

"All of it, you tool." She elbows you to make her point.

"And yet you've seemed to accept it pretty quickly."

She crosses her legs and turns to face you. "Dude, I don't have a choice. The truth is literally in the palm of your hand." She chuckles at her own joke.

"Yeah, but you're taking it really well. I mean, aren't you freaking out? Like, really fucking freaking out?"

"Sounds like you want me to freak out."

You sigh; Jo always knows how to hit the spot without actually saying it outright. "I guess I just want one of us to freak out. I mean, some dude who claims to be an angel tells me I have to kill the devil, and I just nod and agree to hear him out?"

Jo makes a face. "Yeah, that's almost as screwed up as this whole thing, and if I wasn't so quick to believe all of this, I'd wonder if he'd brainwashed you or something … but that's just a whole other level of crazy, so let's not go there."

You snort but say nothing. Everything about the last twenty-four hours is every level of crazy you can think of, and you don't know if talking about it with Jo is helping or hindering. You look at her as she shifts in her seat and licks her lips.

"Maybe …" She pauses, licks her lips again. "Maybe we're both so quick to believe it because it _is_ true."

You nod; it's not like the thought hadn't occurred to you. "Yeah. Maybe."

"What are you going to do?"

"I … I dunno." Because you hadn't thought of that. If all of this is true, are you just going to agree to do what Cas asks? Go into his apocalyptic universe and attempt to kill _Lucifer_? Shit, how does one even kill the fucking devil?

"It has to be you?" Jo asks. "Can't he get some other guy to do it?"

"Apparently it has to be me." You don't go into details about the brother you have everywhere else, but it does bring another question to mind: it has to be you because you're the only Dean without a Sam, but why does it have to be a Dean?

Jo says nothing for a long time. Long enough that Marty McFly is in the crappy present time of the second movie by the time she finally says something.

"Guess you have a world to save then."

Hours later, you climb out of your car and walk into _O-Karma-Rama's_ wanting nothing more than a stiff drink and a little memory loss. Jo left your place a while ago, and the second that door closed behind her, you began to freak out. You're still freaking out, and a couple of shots of whiskey at home just ain't gonna cut it.

You need ruckus, noise, people, music, distraction. Any and every kind you can get your hands on because you're officially freaking out. Once Jo left, you paced, and as you paced your fingers clenched and unclenched with unshed energy and fear, because it was only then that you finally began to see just how messed up everything was.

This is some serious shit - shit that makes your fucking head spin, and if Jo hadn't seen your healed skin, you would admit yourself to a psyche ward first thing tomorrow morning.

As if the dreams - the without fail every Tuesday morning dreams that often scare the shit out of you - weren't enough, now there's alternate realities and Lucifer and vampires.

Well. You're not one hundred percent sure about the vampires, but not much would surprise you at the moment.

Karma, for lack of a better word, just isn't on your side, though, and it's not nearly as busy inside _O-Karma-Rama_ as you'd like. You take what you can get, though, and plonk yourself down at the bar, ordering a drink and keep 'em coming, thanks.

You glance around, take in your surroundings - the dancing, the karaoke, the drunks making fools of themselves and the people laughing at them - and wonder if anyone else in this place, this city, this planet, is having the same kind of fucked-up day you're having. You doubt it, though. Partly because you're still having trouble believing it yourself.

Your leg jiggles where your foot rests on the edge of the stool, your fingers tap an incessant beat against your glass, and your heads nod along to be music playing far too loudly. You don't even like this music - Britney just isn't your thing - but you can't stop moving. You want to pace, wring your hands, let out some of this nervous, pent-up energy.

Instead you sit and drink your drink. You know damn well that getting hammered isn't going to make this any easier to grasp, but you throw back a couple of shots before nursing your beer.

A girl comes to sit next to you, but you pay her no mind until she says your name.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" You take in the smudged dark hair and wide smile.

"How's it going?" she asks, and you nod along. You meet a lot of people working at the _Roadhouse_ ; they don't seem to have any trouble remembering you, but it's hard to keep up with the constant flow of new and regular customers.

"Yeah, it's uh - you know."

"Night off, huh?"

"Yep."

"Cool."

You nod, and figure you'll leave it at that, but she continues.

"What's your brother up to tonight?"

Your entire body contracts, and you know it's obvious - probably too obvious - but you can't help it because this can't be good, right? You look at the girl - short, pale, cute in a going-to-rip-your-face-off kind of way - and try to relax. You ease up, take a small drink, go back to jiggling your leg in time to the Def Leppard song that's currently playing.

"He's around."

"Oh yeah? I haven't seen him for a while."

"You know Sam," you say, and throw her a smirk, "the ladies can't seem to keep up with him."

"Well," she says, her grin sending chills down your spine, "you've got me there."

Uncomfortable doesn't begin to cover how this chick makes you feel, so you chug back your drink and stand, a little wobblier than you'd like.

"Uh, bathroom."

She just smiles and tilts her head, and it makes her look the complete opposite of the innocent she's clearly going for. Or maybe she's not going for innocent, at all; maybe she knows exactly what she's doing, and going for outright evil.

If so, it's working.

When you shove open the door to the bathroom, she's already there.

"What the fuck?" You glance behind you, back at the bar, where she definitely isn't, then back at her.

"Hey, Dean-o."

"Who are you?"

She pouts. "I'm offended. After everything we've shared in my universe, you don't even know me in this one."

Your eyes narrow. "Who the fuck are you."

"A friend … okay, okay, _enemy_. Guess I figured I'd have more luck if I went with friend." She shrugs and grins again. "Oh well."

You take a step back, but the bathroom door slams shut behind you, with no effort from either of you. You glance at it, then swallow heavily and put on a brave face.

"What do you want?"

"Your head on a platter."

You have to press your hand to the wall to keep yourself steady when she says that, but you don't know if it's just her words or the alcohol coursing through your system.

"Relax," she purrs. "I'm not going to hurt you - okay, that's not entirely true. I'll hurt you a little, but I won't kill you. Daddy wants to do that himself."

"Daddy?"

"Don't play dumb, Dean. You took off as soon as you'd finished lying about your brother, so don't tell me Clarence hasn't already told you everything."

"What are you talking about?"

" _Castiel_ ," she says. "He found you, didn't he? And I'm sure he's told you all about my father."

You stomach drops then turns. "Lucifer."

"Bingo."

You have to swallow a few times before you can open your mouth again. "I'm not going with you."

"Darlin', you don't have a choice."

A knife appears in her hand, and your back yourself right up against the door. It doesn't budge, and you grasp around for the handle that doesn't exist. It's a fucking double-action door that should swing right open under your weight, but won't fucking move.

"Look," you says, hands held up in surrender, going for a whole other tactic. "Whoever you think I am -"

"I know exactly who you are," she says. She waves her hand at you as she walks forward, and instead of pressing yourself against the wall in an effort to stay away from her, you're pushed to it against your will, arms at your sides, head pushed back by an unseen force. She's stuck you to the damned door using nothing but a move of her hand to do it, and you hate the noise that comes out of your mouth at the realisation.

She stops right in front of you, smiles in that tear-you-to-pieces kind of way, and shoves the knife through your arm and into the wood of the door.

The noise you make is unintelligible, mixed with a hiss of pain. Tears prick at your eyelids, and you blink quickly, refusing to let them fall.

"You crazy bitch!" you gasp out.

"Ain't no way to talk to the girl whose blade is less than an inch away from some very important arteries."

" _Fuck you_." you spit, saliva literally hitting her in the face as you try to deal with the pain.

She grimaces, but then her face goes blank and she spins around. In less than a second, she's gone and Cas is in front of you.

"Dean." His eyes go wide as he takes in your injury.

You can move now, but your arm is still impaled to the wall, and all you can really do is look at it. Blood streaks down your arm, into your hand, and now that you're life isn't in danger, you can feel its heat and stickiness, and your stomach churns.

Cas hurries to your side and presses his fingers to your forehead. You close your eyes, and when you open them only seconds later, you're in your apartment, completely healed.

You take a slow, deep breath before speaking.

"What the _hell_ , Cas?"

"That was Meg. She's one of Lucifer's most trusted demons."

" _That_ was a demon?"

"That was a demon inside a vessel. Be glad all you see is the vessel."

You open your mouth to reply something snarky, but stop when you finally notice Cas. He's a fucking mess. Blood drips from his nose and mouth, he's hunched over slightly, and you're pretty sure there's a limp to his walking as he steps toward you.

"Jesus, what the fuck happened?" You catch him as he stumbles slightly.

"Lucifer."

" _What_?"

"He was already in one of the realms I had to visit, and I'm afraid our conversation didn't go so well."

"Meaning?"

Cas pulls himself upright and squares his shoulders. "Meaning I had to fight my way out of there."

Wow. And holy fuck. You swallow hard. "I thought he lived in your universe."

"He does."

"Then what he was doing in the other one? Wherever the hell you were? And what was - _Meg_ doing here?"

"The same thing I was doing, Dean. Looking for you."

You stare at Cas, not sure what to say, but also completely weirded out by the way he's literally _healing_ right in front of you. You can still see him clearer than you've seen anyone in the last four years, and you watch the blood on his face all but disappear until there's not a single cut or hint of a bruise to be seen.

Again. _Wow_.

"We need to get moving," Cas continues. "Lucifer hasn't been to nearly as many places as I have, but that is his plan. Was his plan. Now that Meg knows you're here, well I'm sure he'll be popping up very soon. Of course he'd have to _find_ you here, but -"

"Why would he come here?"

"I told you, Dean; he's looking for you, too."

"Yeah, I heard ya, but why?"

Cas frowns at you. Like, really frowns, as though you're the most incompetent human he's ever met. But then he does that head-tilt thing and sighs.

"My apologies. It seems I forget you don't know everything I know."

You snort. "Dude, I don't know half of what you know."

"That's very true," he says. "I've lived thousands of years - you probably don't know a tenth of what I know."

You nod slowly. "Yeah, thanks."

"Lucifer is looking for you because he knows you can kill him. As I mentioned last night, if you don't come with me, you will be in a lot of danger - as you might have just realised. While I've been searching for you in the hopes that you will help save my world, Lucifer …" Cas stares at the ground instead of meeting your gaze. "Well, Lucifer has been killing every Dean he finds, just to be sure."

You have no reaction to that. No heart that thuds too much, no stomach that drops, no palms that fill with sweat. But you do forget to breath for a few moments.

"Dean?"

You focus on Cas, and he's looking at you with concern. "Yeah? Yeah. Okay. You need me to kill the devil, and the devil wants me dead. Right?"

"That is correct."

"Because I'm the only one who can kill him."

"Yes."

"Okay." And really it just adds to the _what-the-fuck_ list that has quadrupled in the last twenty-four hours. "But why me?"

Cas sighs. "We've been over this, Dean. It has to be you because you're the only Dean -"

"Without a Sam. Yeah, I got that bit, but why not you? Or some other angel? Why _Dean_?"

His eyes widen, and you get the distinct impression that that's not something he wants to get into, but you don't back down.

"That … is a very long story," he finally says. "It - it has a lot to do with your lineage, but to very quickly summarize, only a living relative of Lucifer's vessel can kill him. Literally."

Right. You suppose it makes sense in a way that makes no sense, but it's an answer and that's what you were hoping for.

"Dean." Cas steps forward, and you know you're not going to get much more time to process everything. "I checked the other three realms, as we agreed I would, and Sam has existed in all three of them. You are the Dean I need."

Your palms are officially sweaty, and you wipe them on your jeans, stalling for time. "And, if I don't go with you …"

"Then Lucifer will find you. Very soon. Once Meg finds him, this will be the next universe he comes to. And once he finds you, he will kill you."

You don't seem to have much of a choice, and you've known that for a while now. You nod slowly, taking careful breaths, but you don't stop to think things through.

"Okay. Okay, I'm in."

Cas' eyes seem to light up, and though he hesitates in whatever comes next, he doesn't ask you if you're sure and it's probably a damn good thing he doesn't. You watch as he turns back to that same wall and rolls up his sleeve.

"The blood thing again? Seriously?"

"Every time," he says. "If a person is to travel through realities, they must use their own blood to get there."

"Wow. Sucks to be you."

Cas glances at you out of the corner of his eye as he, once again, slices his arm open.

"Oh," you say. "No way."

"Yes."

"Dude, not a chance am I cutting myself open to do this! You want my help so bad, then you can fucking get me there without my blood."

"Impossible."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously." He holds his knife out to you, and you look at it with a grimace.

"Wow. Sucks to be me."

Cas actually rolls his eyes at you. "Relax. I can heal you as soon as we're done."

You actually grin. "Oh yeah. Handy." But you still don't move to take the knife. You're honestly not sure if you can. There's a reason you chose pills and liquor over any other form of attempted suicide. You look back at Cas and he raises his eyebrows.

"Dean?"

You hold your arm out. "You're gonna have to do it, man. Me and blood … we don't mix."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"I mean …" You glance at the wall and take shallow breaths through your mouth. "I mean I'm having enough trouble not passing out at the sight of your blood, okay? You make me smear my own blood all over the wall and I'll be out in seconds. That, or it'll be mixed with puke."

"Very well."

Without thought or concern, Cas grasps your wrist with one hand, and uses the knife in the other to cut you open. You hiss in a breath, stare at the blood forming on your arm, and let out a totally unmanly groan.

"Focus on the pain," he says. "It'll distract you from what you're seeing."

It doesn't take much to focus on the pain, and you stare at a picture of you and Jo on the fridge as Cas takes your blood from your arm to the wall. You can't make it out, but you've looked at it so often than you know what it is without having to see it.

The photo was taken Christmas two years ago; Jo's wearing a stupid reindeer headband and snowflake sweater, while you're glowering at the camera and pretending to hate every second of it.

In truth, it was the best Christmas of you life. You swallow hard, and it has nothing to do with the blood you can feel on your skin and everything to do with the fact that you're leaving Jo. She's your family. Bobby and Ellen are great, but Jo is your everything; she's your best friend, your sister, she's mothered you when you were sick, and she's the one who taught you how to flair like Brian Flanagan.

"Are you ready?"

You blink away the nostalgia and focus again. Your arm is healed, the knife is away, and there are two bloody sigils painted onto your living room wall.

"Do I have a choice?"

"You have … free will."

You sigh. "All right, man. Let's do it."


	2. Part Two

****

**PART TWO**

You're not sure what you're expecting, but when you follow Cas' lead and press your palm to the sigil, light surrounds you. And not the kind of light like when the DeLorean jumps through time. It's a warm light that simply grows and takes over everything around you.

And if you had been expecting anything, it wasn't that. Maybe being thrown through the wall and into an alternate reality, or having your entire body transferred from one place to another. But all that happens is light surrounds your living room, and when it fades, your living room is gone and you're standing outside.

The sun isn't up, but it's light enough out that you can see the gravel beneath your feet, the expanse of property around you, and the chain-link and barbed-wire fence surrounding the property. Cas is next to you, hands shoved deep in his jeans pockets.

"Where are we?"

"You don't recognise the place?"

You turn on the spot, and behind you is a whole different story - to the far left is a garage that looks strong enough to be a bomb shelter; between that and you is a maze of cars, trucks, and mountains of tires; and in the distance, directly in front of you, is a house so perfectly hidden by trees that you can barely make it out.

But you _can_ make it out, and that's what's really fucking with you. You can make out everything from the smoke coming out of the chimney to the crow sitting on the roof of the garage. You can see the a leaf floating in a puddle at least fifty feet away. You can see where someone's keyed some kind of pentagram into the corner of the hood of the car three cars away from you!

You can see like you've got twenty-fucking-twenty vision.

You blink half a dozen times, just to be sure, but your vision never fades, never blurs. Nothing is fuzzy or hazy, and if the atmosphere of the place wasn't so depressing, you'd probably smile.

Instead you frown. "This almost looks like Bobby's place."

"This is Bobby's place."

"It looks … different."

"Adjustments have been made to keep the place safe. There was talk for a while of moving, finding somewhere safer, but we quickly realised there is no place safer."

"Safe from Lucifer, right?"

"And the rest," Cas says, but doesn't continue until you raise an eyebrow. "There's a lot going on, Dean. More than just Lucifer and his demons."

You don't doubt it, but you don't ask about it right away. "So all this? This … maze - it'll keep them out?"

"No. We have hundreds - if not thousands - of wards in place to keep all demons out. This is for the Croats."

"Croats?"

"Somewhat similar to zombies."

And he says it with such nonchalance that you go with it. "Okay. So Bobby's place is the safe house?"

"That's right."

"Is it just you and Bobby living here?"

"No. A few of us live here. We're not the most conventional group, but we're family. Well, most of us."

You nod, and follow Cas as he begins his way through the maze. "Are you the only angel?"

"No."

"Is there anyone else here I might know?"

"I doubt it."

"How long have you known them all?"

"Long enough."

"Is everyone else … human?"

"No."

You trail behind Cas as he turns left instead of right, despite the fact that left looks like a dead end. This is a lot of information to take in, but you'll dwell on it later. For now, you're going to learn as much about this place as you can.

"How many of them know me? I mean, the other me? The me from here?"

"A few of them."

"But I don't know them?"

"It's highly unlikely." Cas slips through a gap in a wall of tires that you never would have noticed had you not seen him do it. You quickly slide in after him, barely catching sight of him turning the next corner and walking past a Mustang that looks suspiciously like one you're fairly familiar with.

You hurry to catch up. "Hey, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"Where am I? I mean, the Dean from here? Where's he?"

Cas stops dead. "He's gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes."

"As in -"

"Dead. Yes."

"Oh."

It kind of kills all conversation, and the look on Cas' face isn't one you've seen before. You have questions - so many more questions - but you keep them to yourself and fall into step behind Cas as he starts up again.

It takes another fifteen minutes before you reach the house, and you don't realise you're there until a feminine voice comes from the back porch. The sound of a shotgun being cocked quickly follows, and your heart leaps into your throat.

"Hold it."

You and Cas both stop. Cas hold out his hand and the women throws him a flask that he opens. Your gaze flits from Cas to the women, takes in the jeans and plaid shirt she wears, and the way Cas drinks without being asked and isn't at all concerned by the gun aimed at him.

Though Cas could probably just heal himself if the gun happened to go off, and when you actually look back at it, you realise with a start it's aimed at you, not him.

You swallow heavily and look at Cas. He's holding the flask out to you. You take it dumbly and sling back a few shots of …

"Water?"

"Holy water."

"I don't get it."

But Cas is busy pulling his knife back out and rolling up his sleeve.

"Just the doppelganger, Cas," the women says. "You passed the holy water test and that's good enough for me."

"Thank you, Jody." He turns to you and nods at your arm.

"Seriously? Again?"

"Again."

You hold out your arm, but ask, "Why?"

"To prove you're you." He makes a quick incision into your arm, holds it out for Jody to inspect, then heals you again. She lowers the gun. "If you were possessed, the holy water would have burned you. The silver in the knife would have done the same if you were a shape shifter."

Good to know.

You rub your arm, despite there not being an ounce of pain. "Why didn't you do that the other night? When you first came into the _Roadhouse_? How did you know I wasn't … possessed or whatever."

"Because I can see your soul." He starts up the stairs, and you go to follow until you see Jody staring at you as though you have two heads.

You take a step back, hands held up in surrender. "I - I passed the tests, man."

She blinks, picks up her jaw, and looks at Cas. "You've never brought one back before."

"No, I haven't."

"This is - this is _him_?"

Cas looks long and hard at you, and then sighs. "This is him." He walks inside and you're left alone with Jody, who's still staring at you in something akin to awe.

"You're him."

You shrug. "I'm him."

She sets the gun on the chair behind her and comes to stand in front of you. "Well, shit, he finally found you."

Your eyes narrow. "How long has he been looking."

"Years."

"Years?"

"Mmhm. It takes a lot of effort to move between realities - something I'm sure you'll feel soon enough. When Cas first started looking he could only go to one a week, but recently it's been two, sometimes three." She steps closer. "Honestly, though, I think he's been overdoing it lately. He looks exhausted."

"He - he said he'd made certain it was me." You rub your palms on your jeans, feeling awful. "He said he'd check the other three realities he still had to check, just to prove to me that I was the only one without a Sam."

"And did he?"

"Well. He didn't come back for a good twenty hours -"

"He did." Jody gives you a motherly pat on the back. "I wouldn't expect to see him for another few days. He's gonna need his rest."

"Angels sleep?"

"Cas does."

You open your mouth to ask what that means, but yelling from inside causes both you and Jody to become distracted. You can't make out the words, but Cas' voice isn't one you think you'll ever forget, and you know Bobby well enough to recognise him when you hear him.

Bobby's place looks just like it does in your universe, only darker. A lot darker. There's no artificial light, and whatever natural light that's beginning to shine through the windows is mostly hidden by what you assume to be more sigils - though going by the size of them and how many they are, you really hope no one had to shed blood for them.

The floor is bare wood, scuffed, and dusty; the wallpaper is either peeling or messily painted over with more odd signs and symbols; and the furniture is literally falling to pieces - the dining table is missing a leg and instead being held up with giant books.

It still amazes you that you can see all of this. That you can see the dusty footprints on the floor, see the rips on the sofa in the living room, and see the exact outlines of very symbol painted on the walls.

But it's seeing Bobby that amazes you the most, and not because it's Bobby, someone you know - or at least recognise. Because it's not Bobby - not the Bobby you know or recognise.

His eyes are hard. That's the first thing you notice. Beneath that same trucker's hat, and above that same facial hair, are eyes that are cold and mean and not at all what you're used to when looking at Bobby. Sure, the Bobby you know was a hard-ass, but not in anyway that could be construed as _mean_.

You swallow hard, the look in his eyes when he sees you enough to make you wonder if this whole thing was a huge mistake. The scar running from his left temple and through the corner of his mouth makes you suck in a breath and wonder just what the fuck you've gotten yourself into.

"So this is him, huh?" There's a slur to Bobby's voice, but not the kind that comes from too much hooch.

Cas, who's standing to your right, sighs again, and he really does look exhausted. And detached. He's as far away from you as possible, and looking everywhere but at you. "This is him."

Bobby grunts and stares at you. So you stare back, because you were brought here to kill the fucking devil, Lucifer himself, so backing down from old Bobby Singer would just make you pathetic.

You barely last thirty seconds before looking away; his eyes are too cold, the twist of his mouth too cruel, and his scar is fucking terrifying.

Bobby scoffs. "This isn't him."

"Yes it is."

"Really, Cas? You're telling me this - this _boy_ , this kid who clearly doesn't even know how to handle a knife, is the one?"

"Yes."

Bobby shakes his head, disgust rolling off him as he glares at you. "Never held a gun before in your life, have ya, boy?"

"No." You bite back the _sir_ that wants to follow.

"That's what I thought." He stares at you for a long moment, and this time you don't look away until he looks at Cas. "This might be _the one_ , Cas, but he ain't him."

Cas runs a hand through his messy hair, and now he won't look at you or Bobby. "I'm going to bed. We can talk about this later."

He heads up the stairs without another word, and you're left there alone with an angry old guy who clearly hates you, and some women who aimed a shotgun at you until you sliced your arm open.

Jody moves to stand next to you, staring at Bobby with a softness that makes you uncomfortable, and Bobby starts again.

"You know I'm right, Jody. He's not the same."

"Of course he's not, sweetheart" she says kindly, "but we always knew that."

"Yeah, well, he shouldn't be here!"

"He's here to help us, Bobby. Someone's gotta kill Lucifer, remember?"

"That doesn't mean he can just waltz on in here and act like he belongs. You knew Dean, Jody - the _real_ Dean - and this sure as shit ain't him."

You cough. "I'm right here, you know?"

Bobby turns his glare to you. "Shut up. And stay the hell outta my way." He storms outside - ignoring Jody's attempt to get him to stop - and slams the door behind him as he goes.

You don't turn to watch him, though; you stay exactly where you are, trying to figure things out, but it's still too much and it might always be too much. You're head is beginning to hurt.

Jody places a hand on your arm. "How about I show you where you'll be sleeping?"

She heads up the stairs, and all you can really do is follow. You've never been upstairs at Bobby's before, but there's really not a lot to take in - half a dozen closed doors, thinning carpet, and more pain on the walls. Jody leads you to the door at the end, but doesn't open it.

"Bathroom's right there," she says, pointing to the left, "but it's useless. Even with the generator, hot water isn't a possibility. Ever. And you'll probably find some clothes in there, too. If not, let me know and I'll see what I can scrounge up."

"Right."

Jody doesn't leave. It's pretty clear she has more to say. "And, listen, about Bobby … don't take it personally, okay? He and Dean, well, they were close. Real close. He and Sam, too. What happened at Stull Cemetery really wrecked him."

You rub the back of your neck, beginning to feel worn out. "Yeah? What happened at Stull Cemetery?"

"That's where you - uh, _Dean_ … died."

"Ah."

"Yeah. Seeing one kid you love beat his brother to death seems to be a sure-fire way to send an old man into a downward spiral."

You fight a yawn. "Sounds like a bad horror movie."

Jody smiles and pats your arm again. "Get some rest, kid. You'll need it."

She leaves, and you can barely keep your eyes open by the time your head hits the pillow. You don't take in the bedroom, the paint-covered window, or the closet opposite the bed. You don't even register Jody's words about how the Dean from this universe died. You just sleep.

You don't dream, which isn't exactly unexpected because you usually only dream on Tuesdays, but after the last few nights, it does come as a nice surprise. You wake well rested and content.

Until you open your eyes, see everything absolutely clearly. It hits you quickly that you're in another fucking dimension. You move onto your back and stare at the ceiling, shivering slightly. The sun peeks through where it can, but you can't tell what time it is, or which direction your bedroom faces.

Not that it matters, except that you kind of want to see what's going on out the front of Bobby's - out in the world. Cas telling you about an apocalypse is one thing, but seeing it is a whole other story, and one you're surprisingly eager to learn about.

So what if Bobby hates you, Jody looked like she wanted to throw her arms around you and never let go, and Cas went cold on you the second you were in the company of others? You're here for a reason, and as nice as Jody is, that reason probably isn't to make friends. Definitely not if Bobby has anything to say about it.

You sit up and rub your bare arms. You don't know how these parallel universes work, but your guess is that you're still in the present - just a different present - and it's still mid November. Too cold to sleep without covers, or to walk around without heating or a jacket.

A quick search of the room gives you nothing but a tiny view of the maze you walked through with Cas, and three empty coat hangers in the closet. You sigh and head downstairs.

You stop at the bottom of the stairs, conflicted - to the left, voices and what sounds like serious discussion; but from the right, the delightfully strong smell of coffee.

You go left when you hear your own name mentioned.

Of course, there are one hundred and seventeen other Deans they could be talking about.

You roll your eyes and head into what seems to be a library/office. It's relatively similar to the room you know at Bobby's, but _more_. More books, more scraps of paper lying around, more people filling it.

Silence falls immediately when you enter, and they all look up at you. You recognise Cas and Bobby, but not the other three. They all seem to recognise you, though, if the wide eyes and shocked gasps are anything to go by.

The girl near the fire moves first. Well, woman, you suppose. She's definitely not a kid, but when she stands - sudden and smooth, eyes hard and unforgiving as they flick between you and Cas - the sight of her sends your stomach rolling. She's familiar, but you're not sure how or why. You vaguely wonder if she's in your world, too; if maybe she's come into the _Roadhouse_ once or twice - but, somehow, you know it's not that.

"Castiel," she says, voice calm and shocked, all at once.

It's the first time you've heard anyone other than Cas say his full name, and you like the way it sounds.

Cas ignores her, though, and stands from the seat behind the desk. But he still barely glances at you. "Dean. I trust you slept well."

"Uh, yeah -"

"So this is him, aye, Cas? The righteous man who will save us all?" asks a guy against the back wall, who only stands out the way he does because he's wearing a perfectly tailored suit, which, c'mon, end of the world. He's also looking at you like you're the shit on the bottom of his shoe.

"This is him," Cas repeats.

"Well. This is an interesting turn of events." Another guy says. He's leaning against the bookshelf and glaring at you, and you suddenly wish you weren't the new guy in town.

"Gabriel, please -"

"No," the girl interrupts Cas. "Gabriel's right, Castiel. What have you done?"

"I did what needed to be done. You would have done the same."

The girl says nothing. She and Cas stare at each other for a long time, the guy in the suit picks at his nails, Bobby reads the book in front of him, and Gabriel stares at you with narrowed eyes.

The silence lasts for far too long, and you're just about ready to head for the coffee, when the guy in the suit speaks up.

"You know I hate to ease the tension - especially between an angel and a reaper, because let me tell you, that causes some good fun - but we were in the middle of planning how all of this is going to go down. Perhaps we should get back to that."

"Crowley's right." They're the first words Bobby's said since you arrived in the library, but you try not to think about that. "We need to get back to it."

Cas walks around the desk and stops in front of you. "How about you get some coffee, Dean? Maybe head over to the garage and meet the rest of the group?"

It's said as a question, but you know it's not a suggestion. They don't want you involved in whatever their meeting is about - and you have a feeling a lot of the meeting is about you - and Cas is going about getting rid of you the nice way.

Whatever. You don't need to know about it. It's not like you're important to their fucking mission or anything.

You take a another look at the girl - _reaper_? - and Gabriel, and find them whispering in the corner, both shooting you astonished glances.

"Dean." Cas' voice isn't so indifferent this time, so you turn and walk away without another word.

You leave the house. You forgo the coffee, and the invitation to visit the garage, and head for the maze, genuinely hoping to get lost for a while.

You don't get lost, but you do begin to panic. You're at Bobby's, it's Bobby's cars you're walking past, Bobby's house you just walked out of, and Bobby's coffee you're drinking. But none of it is familiar. Not now that you're here in the light of day.

Not only does everything _look_ different, but it just _is_ different. The entire feel of the place is cold and eerie. You feel like there are eyes watching you from behind each car you walk past. The silence is unnerving, the red paint on the cars - and oh how you hope it's paint - is creepy as fuck, and something just feels off.

You still can't figure out how you've managed to accept everything so easily, except that you simply have. The way you see it, it's no different than if Jo showed up at work with red hair - you can't deny what's right in front of you, and what's right in front of you now is some seriously fucked up shit.

And you accept it, but it's beginning to overwhelm you.

"Hey!"

You startle at the voice, and turn to find another shotgun aimed at you. You hold your hands up in surrender. Again.

"Whoa! Whoa, hey, I'm -"

"Him." She lowers the gun. "You're him."

You sigh. "That's what I keep hearing."

"Sleep well?"

You frown at the odd turn of conversation. "Um, yeah, actually."

She smirks. "I should think so. You've been out for three days."

You stare at her. "No way."

"Yep. But it's not surprising. Travelling through realities can take a lot out of you."

You stare at her and think of nothing but that, for the first time in four years, you've slept on a Tuesday without dreams.

She smiles. "I'm Sarah."

"Dean."

"I know."

"Of course. Everyone knows. I get the feeling you've all been expecting me."

"We have." She turns and sits on the back of an old pick-up, and you take the moment to look around; you're somewhere in the maze, surrounded by a couple of cars, a few rows of tires, and something that looks like a trick mirror from an amusement park. Sarah continues. "Plus, you know, I knew the other you."

"Didn't everyone?" you ask, even though you know it's not true. You move to sit next to her on the flat deck.

"Not everyone.

"Yeah. Well the ones that did don't seem all that happy to have me here."

"Don't take it personally," she says, just like Jody did. "Bobby and Cas - hell, even Tessa and Crowley - they knew the other you pretty damn well. Especially Cas and Bobby."

"Yeah?"

"It's not really my place to tell the story, but Cas literally saved Dean's life. And Bobby … Dean was like a son to Bobby. So was Sam."

"You knew Sam?"

She takes your coffee, sips cautiously, then smiles. "Finally, someone who has their coffee sweet enough to hurt. But, yeah, I knew Sam. I only met you guys the once, but …"

"But."

"But it was a memorable experience."

She's silent for a few minutes after that, but you're not willing to let it go. "How so?"

"Let's just say that, before they turned up, I was totally oblivious to the monsters they were hunting."

"Hunting?"

She turns to look at you. "This is all pretty new to you, huh? I know it sounds weird, but that's what Sam and Dean did - they took care of the things that went bump in the night."

"Like … demons?"

"And the rest." She continues with a grin when you cock an eyebrow at her. "I'm the least experienced person here, and I'm the one telling Dean Winchester what he's up against? Nice."

"Hey, different Dean."

"Yeah. Plus, it's all pretty intense, huh? Finding all this stuff out?"

It hits you then that Sarah gets it. She lived in ignorance for most of her life, too, and she gets how fucked up this is for you. Tension you didn't know you felt eases from your shoulders.

"You're the only one who seems to get that," you tell her. "In fact, you're the only one here who doesn't stare at me like I've got a giant dick attached to my head."

You only have a split second to realise you don't know this girl. She's not Jo, and she might not be the kind of girl you can say things like that around. But then …

"They exist, you know?" she says.

"What?"

"I know you're still pretty new to this stuff, so how about we get it all out of the way - dudes with giant dicks attached to their heads? They exist."

"Holy fuck."

"I know."

"Are you serious?"

"Not at all."

You fight the smile, but it doesn't last. This chick is pretty cool. "What does exist then? For real, this time?"

She grins and reaches for her back pocket. "I actually have a list."

"A list?"

"Yeah. I mean, I knew there were bad things out there after you guys - uh, _Sam and Dean_ helped me out, but when the apocalypse hit and I came here, I made a list. Kind of had to; I was finding out about knew creatures everyday."

"Jesus."

"There's still no proof on that one, but," she opens her list, "I do have demons, vamps, shape shifters, werewolves, Croats, evil spirits, Djinn, wendigo, reapers, and ghouls."

"That's it?" you ask, all sarcasm.

"If you mean is that my list? Then yes. But that's not _it_. They're just the ones I've researched On my to-research list is fairies, familiars, banshee, bururburu … and, well, the list just goes on and on."

"Damn."

"Yep."

"How many of them have you seen?"

"Well, there's a demon and a reaper living with us, but other than that I've only seen a couple of vampires, an evil spirit, and a shit load of Croats."

"Wow - wait. A demon _and_ reaper live with us?"

"You haven't met them already?"

"There was a Crowley and a Gabriel inside …"

"Gabriel's an angel. Crowley's the demon."

"And he lives here?"

She nods. "In a way. Did you meet Tessa?"

"Tessa?"

"Terribly beautiful, gorgeous hair, looks perfect even in the middle of the apocalypse? That's our reaper."

You smirk. Being around Sarah has relaxed you, and you currently don't give a shit that everyone inside seems to have something against you. "She seemed particularly pissed to see me."

"Don't -"

"Take it personally. Yeah, I know."

She nods and hops off the flatbed. "Listen, I've probably filled your head with enough information for one morning, and I need to get these inside, you coming?"

For the first time you notice the bags on the ground next to the truck. They're full of potatoes, carrots, and onions.

"You grew these?"

"Mmhm."

"Out here?"

She gives you a wicked grin. "If anyone ever dares to raid us, they'll get lost in the maze before they find our stash of food."

"Well, you've got a point there."

"C'mon," she says, "I'll show you the way out."

She picks up the gun and you take two of the bags from her. It doesn't take long to get out of the maze - definitely not as long as it took you to get where Sarah found you. When you reach the yard right behind the house, Sarah heads right on in, but you stay outside.

There's a small wooden shack next to one of the trees in front of the house, right in direct sunlight. Though you wouldn't even call it a shack, being that it has four posts, three walls that don't reach the ground, and the walls are poorly nailed together pieces of old corrugated iron and about three feet tall.

But inside the shack is Cas. And a solar shower. Shirtless Cas taking what looks to be a hot shower and, considering everything, your thoughts couldn't be more inappropriate.

"How come Cas gets a hot shower?"

Jody looks up from the guns she's cleaning. The two of you are sitting on the back porch, cleaning the guns the others just brought back on their most recent raid.

"Huh?"

"You said there was no hot water, but I totally saw Cas using a solar shower this morning."

She grins. "Yeah. For an angel he sure has his weaknesses. If you feel like waiting the hours it takes to heat up in this weather, then you're free to go right ahead, but most of us can't be bothered. We just use the bucket shower from the underground water supply."

"There's an underground water supply?"

"You know, Bobby believed with all his heart that Dean and Sam would stop the apocalypse, but that didn't stop him from getting ready for it. The water comes from the creek a few miles down. He had Rufus here helping him build it while he couldn't walk."

You stare at her. "Bobby couldn't walk?"

"That's another story for another time, kiddo."

"Right."

She stops what she's doing and puts the guns down. "I'm sorry, Dean. You've probably got hundreds of questions you want answered, and we probably just keep brushing them off, am I right?"

You shrug. "Sarah answered a few this morning."

"Did they help at all? Or just add more questions to the list?"

"Both."

She pick her gun back up. "Okay. I'll give you three."

"Three?"

"Yep. Everything going on, everything you want to know about, it's a seriously heavy subject for the most of us. Once you meet everyone you'll see there's only a dozen or so of us here … you know what that means?"

"What?"

She glances at you out of the corner of her eye. "It means we _are_ each others' families because we're all we've got left. It's generally not something we like to talk about."

You sit quietly as Jody continues cleaning. You hadn't thought about it before, about who everyone here had lost and everything they had been through. You don't know if it's because you don't know them, or just because you haven't seen anything that even hints at the end of the world, but it makes you think.

"Okay," you say. "First question. Sarah said Sam and Dean took care of the things that go bump in the night … what does that mean?"

"They were hunters. They would find out about mysterious deaths, drive however many miles it took to get there, and take care of whatever monster it was causing havoc."

"That seems like … suicide." You realise your lack of tact when Jody winces slightly, but she nods before you can say anything.

"For us normal folk, yeah. But those boys had been doing it all their lives. They were the best of the best. The whole thing came naturally to them. Now, question two?"

"Um …" And you're stuck because you have a lot of questions, but all of them are clouding your mind, barely letting one single thought through at a time. "What happened to Bobby's face?"

"That was a particularly nasty encounter with a particularly nasty demon."

"Cas didn't heal him?"

"Cas was busy looking for you, and Bobby waved it off as no big deal by the time he was back."

"Huh."

It's still hard for you to get your head around the fact that the guy inside isn't Bobby. Oh, he's Bobby, but he's not _Bobby_. If you turned and looked back through the window, you'd see the same shape and form you know as Bobby, but once you see him up close …

It's really fucking hard. The Bobby you know looks at you like you're the idiot son he never had. The Bobby inside just looks at you like an idiot that he really despises.

You like Jody, though. Not long after you pulled yourself away from ogling Cas she had offered to show you how to clean a couple of the guns - something she claims you have to learn before you learn how to shoot. She's pulled apart three guns already, told you their names and what they're especially good for, but you don't remember much.

In all honesty, there's just _too_ much going on to remember. And what type of gun is sitting next to you hardly seems like the most important thing to keep in mind.

Before you get the chance to ask your third question, Cas turns up. He's wearing jeans and a leather jacket and it looks damn good on him, and you know - you just _know_ \- that getting a crush on a guy who lives in a completely different reality is a dumb idea, but there's just something about him.

"Did you get a chance to meet everyone?" he asks, blocking the sun as he stands in front of you.

You nod. _Everyone_ consisted of a couple more people you'd never met in your life, and Rufus. You don't know why you're still surprised that a Rufus is here; he's Bobby's friend in your world, too.

But despite seeing a familiar face, his reception hadn't been much better than Bobby's.

"So you're him?" he asked.

You nod, officially used to the question.

Rufus scoffed. "You ain't him."

He'd walked away without another word, and you'd been left alone with Garth, Chuck, and Tamara - all three of whom stared at you just like you told Sarah everyone had been.

You squint up at Cas. "No one here seems particularly happy to have me here."

"I'm happy to have you here," Jody says, but it's not entirely convincing, and you know as well as she and Cas do that it's not entirely true. You're simply not the Dean she wants here.

Cas moves to sit next to you, his previous detachment seemingly gone. "They'll come around."

"Doubt it."

"They will. Gabriel is already warming to the idea."

"He's an angel, too, right?"

"That's right."

"Was he looking for me all this time, too? Or just you?"

Cas look thoughtful for a moment before answering. "He looked for a while - went to three, maybe four alternate realities - but … it wasn't working out."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning Gabriel is no longer permitted to travel to other realms."

Jody snorts from your other side, but quickly covers it up with a forced cough.

You look at Cas. "What happened? What did he do?"

"He … had relations in another realm that he absolutely shouldn't have."

"Huh."

Cas nods. "Yes. It was quite a hassle creating a new sigil with his blood just to keep him from leaving this world."

"Wow. So when you say he's not permitted, you mean it literally."

"I do."

You frown. "These, uh, _relations_ he had - they're not allowed? Between people from different realities, I mean?"

"Not ones like that."

"What, he knock someone up or something?"

"Or something," Jody says.

You glance at her and she's taking far too much pleasure in this entire conversation, and when you look back at Cas, he's glaring at the trees ahead.

"I don't get it," you say.

Cas stands, and he's suddenly got that cold shoulder thing down again. "Yes, well, that's because you weren't here."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise it was my fault for not knowing some other universe needed me to come and kill the fucking devil."

He takes a long, heavy breath and stares at you in a way you just don't get. But you stare right back because you're not about to back down from this guy. You're here to do him and his goddamn friends a favour.

The door behind you opens, and someone walks out. You don't turn to see who - you continue to stare at Cas while he stares back at you and it's weirdly intense.

"Castiel." Tessa's voice is enough to pull you out of the weird staring trance. "Bobby's helping Chuck sort out the food supply. I think this would be a good time for you, Gabriel, and I to finish up this morning's meeting."

Cas, angel of the lord and everything, actually shuffles on his feet. "Now isn't the best time, Tessa."

"Oh, I think now is the perfect time." Her voice is ice and you're glad it's not you on the receiving end of whatever glare she's giving Cas.

He sighs. "Very well." He goes to follow her inside and you stand.

"Uh, can I come? I wouldn't mind hearing the plan on how I'm supposed to kill Lucifer."

Cas and Tessa glance at each other, and it's Tessa who steps forward.

"I think it would be best for you to stay out here," she says.

"Right. Of course."

She nods, and the two of them head inside. The door closes firmly behind them.

You try not to let it get to you, you really do, but it's insane. Cas searched for you for years - in-between whatever it is angels do during an apocalypse - and now that you're here you're being held at arm's length. Whatever it is they plan on having you do … well, you don't want to do it unprepared.

Jody stares at you, and you're tempted to say something, but you can't. You don't know if it's due to the look she gave Bobby the day you arrived or something else, but you can't bring yourself to complain to her. You're sure she'd listen and even let you vent, but you can't do it.

You stare out at the scrap yard with an overwhelming urge to talk to Jo.

Instead you go back to watching Jody clean the guns. You don't try to think up a third question.

You got to bed early. After a day of stares and glares, you're not so keen on doing the bonding-over-bourbon thing that seems to be going on downstairs. Plus, the look Bobby gave you as he poured drinks for himself, Rufus, and Frank wasn't exactly inviting.

Hell, not a lot about this place has been inviting. You didn't expect a welcome party or anything, but a bit of courtesy wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen. With Sarah and Cas on rounds during dinner, Jody was the only one who had treated you like a _person_.

Bobby and Rufus had taken to pretending you didn't exist, Frank ate his food like it was just another night, while Garth and Chuck hounded you with questions about your universe. You don't know where the others were - Crowley, Gabriel, and Tessa - but for all you know demons, angels, and reapers don't even need to eat.

You pull the scrap of paper and pen out of your back pocket, and scribble that down. Your head is swimming with unanswered questions, and the only way you seem able to sort through them is by using Sarah's idea and slowly making a list, adding to it when a single thought manages to penetrate the others.

A knock at your door interrupts you. You shove the paper into your back pocket and call out for whoever it is to come in.

Sarah walks in with a bottle of whiskey, and instead of adding that question to the list you just blurt it right out.

"Where the hell did all the liquor come from? It's the end of the world, isn't it?"

She grins. "Hunters aren't exactly known for their sobriety, and nearly half of the people who live here were hunters before the end of the world."

"They were quick to stock up, huh?"

"And thank God they were."

She passes you the bottle and sits crossed-legged in front of you while you take a long drink. Despite all the questions running through your head, the most important one seems obvious. And Sarah seems like the only person to ask. Or the only person who will tell you.

"How did all this happen?"

"All what?"

"Look, I haven't seen anything to prove that the apocalypse is going on outside of that fence, but that's what it is, right? I mean, that's what Cas kept saying."

She nods and takes the bottle from you. "That's right."

"So how did it happen? Zombie outbreak? Killer virus? The rapture?"

"None of the above. And … all of the above." She takes huge mouthful, and wipes at the corner of her mouth. "The short of it is that Lucifer released something called the Croatoan virus. I've never been told the actual story, but apparently Sam, Cas, and Bobby blew up the warehouse holding the virus, but it wasn't the only warehouse. Of course it wasn't."

"So it got out anyway."

"Oh yeah. There were three other warehouses no one knew about. And once the virus got out everything just got crazy. Croats are -"

"Similar to zombies?"

"- similar to zombies." She grins at you, but her eyes are hard. "Crazy bastards who'll either rip your spine out just to count your vertebra, or act just as scared and alone as you until you agree to protect them in your home."

"And then they'll rip your spine out?"

"And then they'll rip your spine out."

You grab the bottle from her. "So not quite as mindless as zombies?"

"Not all of them."

You nod, and you're honestly not sure which is more terrifying. "How many of them are out there?"

"Dunno," she admits. "A lot. It's people like us - _humans_ \- who are in the minority here. We have to hide out and fight for our homes while the Croats and demons and fucking werewolves take over the cities."

"Jesus."

She continues, and holds a hand out for the whiskey. "Then there's the fact that, you know, Lucifer has basically taken over the world. There's your supernatural rapture right there."

"So we're pretty much screwed?"

"Well, we _were_ ," she says, and you don't need to be a genius to figure out what she's getting at.

You change the subject. "How did you end up here, anyway?"

You remember Jody's words, her cautious warning, her _we're all we've got left_ , but you feel so out of the loop that the words come anyway.

"Here at Bobby's?"

"Yeah."

"Well, like I said this morning, I met Sam and Dean the once; they dealt with a cursed painting in my father's art gallery."

You pull a face. "A cursed painting?"

"You came from another dimension, and _you're_ questioning _me_ about a cursed painting?"

"Touché."

She shrugs. "After they left, that was it. I never heard from them again, and never saw anything weird again. Until the Croats started appearing. It was just on the news at first, so I ignored it. But the more I heard of them, the harder it was to ignore."

"What did you do?"

"Well, I'm from New York, you know? And once it hit the city, it hit hard. Got difficult to ignore pretty quickly, and in only weeks my dad and I were holed up in our house, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. So I called Sam. I still had the number you guys - uh, _they_ \- gave me in case anything else went wrong, but no one ever answered."

She pauses to takes a big gulp of the hard liquor.

"Then one day Dad went out to get supplies. I begged him not to, but we were getting low on food." She pauses and takes another drink, and you wince at what you assume is coming. "Long story short, he got bitten while he was out."

"Oh shit."

"Yeah. He didn't show any signs right away, and somehow managed to hide the bite from me, but … eventually I could just tell something was off. There was this look in his eyes, like he wanted to kill me and make it hurt."

You stop her, hating yourself for even asking. "Sarah -"

"It's okay," she insists. "It was a few years ago, I've dealt with it. Really."

"Okay. If your sure."

She takes another drink. "Where was I? Right, I knew something was up, so I went and locked myself in the upstairs bathroom, just for a moment alone to try and figure out what to do. Remember when I said that some of them will act just as terrified as you are until you let them in?"

"Yeah," you answer, even though you dread whatever's coming.

"That's what Dad did. So I unlocked the door. The next part is kind of a blur - there was a struggle and some chasing - but I remember shutting myself in a closet and praying. Like, seriously praying like I've never prayed before in my life."

"What happened?"

"Cas turned up."

"What?"

"I was freaking out, my head was a mess of _please God help_ and _you fucking Winchesters_. Cas heard both, wanted to see who was praying for help while cursing the Winchesters, and found me."

"Wow." This is your first bit of proof that Cas is an honest to God angel. Not just someone who can heal and jump through universes, but someone who answers prayers and saves peoples' lives. And it matters more than it probably should.

So you have a totally physical crush on the guy - not like that's never happened with a guy before - but that's it. He hasn't been the nicest person since you arrived, and whatever bond the two of you seemed to have in your universes is definitely gone.

You look at Sarah. "What about your dad? What happened to him?"

"He died. Well, Cas killed him. It had to be done," she adds quickly, seeing the look on your face. "If Cas hadn't killed him, he would have killed us both. Or worse."

" _Worse_?"

She hands you the whiskey. "Wait until you come across a Croat. Then you'll understand."

"Right. Okay." You take a steadying drink. "So then you just came back here with Cas?"

"Uh-huh. Grudgingly at the time. It took me a while to accept that what he had done was for the best … and to trust him. He was a complete stranger at the time."

"Then why did you trust him?"

Sarah shrugs. "He saved my life."

"Yeah, okay. Can't say that's not a fair reason."

"It's a damn good thing I did, too. I gave him hell for never answering either Sam or Dean's phones, so once we got here he turned them all on and checked every goddamn voicemail there was. That's how everyone else ended up here."

You frown. "Really? The end of the world begins, and everyone just calls Sam and Dean for help?"

"Pretty much. They were the best in their trade." She smirks, then laughs aloud at her own joke.

You nod and spin the lid back on. "You're drunk."

"Yeah. I lot of getting drunk goes on in this house."

"I can tell. Nobody really seems happy. Except for maybe Garth."

"You should spend some time with Garth tomorrow," she says, all serious again. "He'll show you how to see the silver lining."

"The silver lining in being the one who has to kill Lucifer?"

She giggles and stands. "Maybe! Night, Dean."

"G'night."

You shiver slightly once she's gone, and silently thank Cas for the fresh clothes and extra blankets he had found for you after the quick - and cold - shower you took that afternoon. The blankets are heavy and bulky when you slip beneath them, but they don't do much to ease your chill.

Not the real chill, the one deep inside your bones, the one completely terrified by the world you're currently living in.

You've only been in this reality four days, and only one of those was spent awake, but it feels like forever. When you get up the next morning, you're not surprised to find yourself in Bobby's house, you're not surprised to see an angel at the breakfast table, you're not even surprised that you can see clearly.

Cas leaves not long after you begin to make your coffee, and you try not to take it personally. You don't know why you _do_ take it personally. So he was nice to you in your universe, but that makes sense - he was trying to butter you up, to get on your good side before demanding you save the world.

You shiver at the thought of what you have to do. That chill, the one hiding deep inside, is making it's way out and nothing will stop it. But you figure a strong coffee loaded with sugar might at least help.

It's bright but windy out. The clock in Bobby's study tells you it's close to midday and you're surprised you slept so long. Surprised you were allowed to sleep so long.

Once you've got a steaming mug of sweet coffee in hand, you walk into the study. No one else is inside - though you can hear Sarah and Gabriel talking on the front porch, and see Garth and Rufus working on something farther out in the yard - so you take the opportunity for what it is, and try to find out more about what's going on.

Sarah told you the basics, told you how the apocalypse started, and what happened to her, but …

But you want to know more. You're sure none of it's your business, but you want to know why the Bobby in this universe is such a hard-ass, you want to know more about the other Dean, and you want to know why Sam said yes to Lucifer.

And you want to know more about Cas.

So you snoop. You take a quick glance at the books on the shelves - a lot of which have weird names you won't even try to pronounce - then move on to the desk. It's covered in books, maps, lists, pens, and papers with languages and symbols you don't recognise marked on them.

You pick up one piece of paper titled _Devil's Trap_ , but all you can really make out is a pentagram inside a circle. There are more symbols inside the circle, but the more you look at it, turning both the paper and your head side to side to try and figure them out, the more foreign they become.

You shuffle around some papers, come across a pearl-handled knife, a map of Detroit, and the word _Enochian_ which you stare at for longer than necessary.

And then you see a journal. You don't know how you know it's a journal and not just another book, but there's something about it that screams personal. You know it might be Bobby's, maybe even Cas', but you pick it up anyway.

The leather is soft, and you run a hand over the front cautiously, taking in every scratch and nick on the cover. There's no name or indication as to who it belongs to, but it feels important, and the last thing you want to do is something that could ruin it.

Your breath catches in your throat when you open it. Right on the first page is _John Winchester's Journal_.

You dad died along with your mom when you were three. You have exactly one picture of the two of them, and you've memorised their faces to the point that you know exactly which strands of your dad's hair were greying … but you never _knew_ them. You were never given the chance.

And you know this isn't the same John, that the person who wrote in this journal isn't _your_ dad. But it's more than you've ever had of your dad, and it is technically a version of him.

You sit in the chair behind you and open the journal. If it's what you think it is - and why would it be on Bobby's desk if it wasn't - then at least reading it will give you more information on this world that anyone else has. Except maybe Sarah, but even Sarah doesn't know the things Cas and Bobby clearly know.

The first page is dated _November 16, 1983_.

_I went to Missouri, and I learned the truth. And from her, I met Fletcher Gable, who gave me this book and said: "Write everything down." That's what Fletcher told me, like this new life is a school, and I'll flunk out if I don't have good notes. Only if I flunk out of this school I'll be dead. And the boys will be orphans. So I'm going to go back to when this started._

What you read next is unbelievable, but, somehow, you believe it. You know it's true. You know that the Mary Winchester in this universe died the most horrific death possible, one that reminds you of a dream you once had, and suddenly your old life - foster homes, boys homes, and no mother figure - doesn't seem so bad after all.

You flip to the next page, heart thudding at one passage.

_Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side - or from his brother. Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he's trying to protect him from whatever's out there in the night._

You close the journal, but keep your finger inside to hold your place. You don't know why it bothers you, the talk of Sam and Dean. You never had a Sam. You never knew there was such a thing as a _Sam_ until recently. But, for the first time since hearing about him, you wonder.

You wonder what he was like, what he looked like, if he and Dean were close. You figure they must have been, at some stage. You wonder why he said _yes_ to Lucifer, if there's any part of him still in there, if that had anything to do with the Dean from here dying.

Mostly you wonder what it would have been like to have a Sam. If you would have climbed into his crib, just because. Not because of whatever monsters were hiding out in the dark. Just because you wanted to near your brother.

You frown. The brother you never actually had. Even growing up in boys' homes you never had anything close to a brother. A couple of somewhat-decent friends, but nothing more.

Sarah's laughter rings through the open back door, and it's a nice reminder that not everything is as bleak as it seems. Sure, just past Sarah is the end of the world, but if some weird angel dude can make her laugh, then it can't be all bad.

You like Sarah. You like her a lot. You wonder if there's a universe out there where she's your sister.

Not wanting to dwell on siblings-never-had, you continue to read the journal.

_November 20_

_There are people who hunt monsters. They have a kind of network, moving through places like Bill and Ellen's roadhouse. Bill is a hunter, and they have a little girl, Jo. She's not much older than Sammy. The hunters swap stories about what they've seen. They're all damaged, broken. They hate the things they hunt. I'm just like them._

You stare at the words in disbelief, wondering why it hadn't occurred to you before that if there's a Bobby in both worlds, there might just be an Ellen and Jo, too. You make a mental note to ask Cas about that later, then go back to the journal.

There's no guilt over snooping through it now. You don't know why, but you feel _entitled_ to the knowledge you're getting from it.

You stop when you hit _1984_ , and stare at the closed journal. It's a lot of information to take in, and a lot of it you don't comprehend, but you sit back in the chair and try to understand. It's not easy, but you do find accepting it simple enough. Much simpler than when Cas first brought up the idea of angels and demons.

You look up from the journal when hushed voices carry through from the kitchen. You hadn't even heard anyone arrive, and you're guessing they never saw you in the dark study, either, because when you look up it's Cas, Gabriel, and Tessa.

Cas asked you yesterday if you had met everyone, and you had. You met Rufus, Garth, Tamara, Chuck, Frank, and Sarah. You were never introduced to Tessa or Gabriel, and neither sought you out. Even Crowley, the demon, made a quick remark about the way you held a gun while you were helping Jody the evening before.

But neither Tessa or Gabriel have made even the slightest move toward accepting you. And you can't figure out way.

So, as quietly and subtly as you can, you leave your seat behind the desk and head for the kitchen.

"I searched everywhere," Tessa says. " _Everywhere_. And … it's him. I don't know how it happened, or why, but it's _him_."

"Of course it's him," Gabriel says. "You saw it. We all saw it. It's him."

"But how?" she continues. "How does this happen?"

"How it happened doesn't matter. What matters is that, once he finds out, he's going to want to do it even less."

"Not necessarily." Cas' voice is quiet and thoughtful as he stares at the floor. "It might make him want to do it even more."

Tessa and Gabriel both scoff.

"How do you figure that one out, Castiel?"

Cas lifts his head, but doesn't answer when he sees you standing there. He stares at you and you stare back long enough that Gabriel and Tessa both turn to see what he's looking at.

Gabriel smirks. "Oops."

"What's going on?" you ask.

"Nothing, Dean," Cas says.

"Oh yeah? Because all I've heard since I woke up yesterday is that I'm _him_ \- unless it's coming from Rufus or Bobby, of course, because in their opinion I'm definitely not him - so what's the deal?"

Cas steps forward. "It's not important. Nor does it concern you."

You've never had much of a temper, not really, but damn this guy is bringing it out in you. You step closer and refuse to back down to the three supernatural beings in front of you.

"Not my concern, right. Because it's not like I was brought here for anything important. It's not like I need to know how to kill the devil. It's not like you're all having secret fucking meetings about me!"

"Dean, please calm down."

"No, Cas. You won't tell me anything - hell, you've made a point of avoiding me since we arrived here, and it's not fair. You want me to do this, to put my own life on the line and kill Lucifer, but you all talk about me behind my back, and you won't include me in any of your meetings that might enlighten me as to _how_ I'll kill the guy?"

All three of them are silent for a long moment, until Gabriel finally speaks up.

"There's that spark."

"Gabriel, stop." Cas glares at him.

Gabriel does stop, and you're not sure why, but it surprises you. You look away from him to find Tessa staring at you with an expression you can't decipher. But it doesn't matter; what matters is that none of them are telling you a damn thing.

You look at Cas and shake your head. "This is bullshit."

"Dean -"

You ignore him and head out the back door, only to stop mid-step on the porch. There's someone in the scrap yard. Someone you don't know. You stare, and he stares back, and it's awful. It's an ominous, sick feeling that floods you and confuses you. You tilt your head to the side, trying to figure out what's going on, but it's not until Cas says something from right next to you that you get it.

"Lucifer."

But you don't see Lucifer. You see the guy who was with you when the hot biker chick got her eyes burned out. You see the guy who watched you die countless times in the stupidest ways. The guy who screamed himself hoarse while some girl burned to death on the ceiling.

You see the guy who was shot in cold blood on the bed next to yours. The guy who took some other guy's head off with razor wire. The guy who you found in a dive bar holding a knife to Jo's throat.

He's the guy you've been dreaming about for the last four years.

He's _Sam_.

Cas steps forward. "What are you doing here? We had an agreement."

"Yes, we did," Lucifer says. "I leave you and your little friends alone, and you won't bother trying to kill me again. Unfortunately, you seem to have negated your side of the agreement, Castiel, leaving it null and void."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Let's not lie to each other when we both know what's going on here; you've been searching the multi-verse for a certain Dean Winchester, I've been searching the multi-verse for a certain Dean Winchester … you just happened to find him first."

Cas steps right to the edge of the porch. "I won't let you kill him."

You know the look on your face must be fucking hilarious, because how have you not thought that part of all of this through yet? It's _Lucifer_ , for crying out loud. Of course there's a damn good chance he'll just kill you and get it all over with.

You shake slightly at what's going on, but you don't realise it until a steady hand closes around your arm. You don't look away from Cas and Lucifer, but you do see Tessa out of the corner of your eye.

"I didn't come here to kill him, Brother. I'm merely here to make a deal."

"A deal with the devil? You've gotta be kidding." Bobby says, and you hadn't even seen him arrive. He's a couple of yards away from Lucifer, and he has Rufus, Garth, and Tamara with him.

For a split second you wonder where Sarah and Jody are, and hope they're somewhere safe.

They're not.

"We all know what a deal with a demon costs," Jody says, and she's on the other side of Lucifer, Sarah and Frank with her. "You think anyone here would be stupid enough to go that step farther and do the deed with you?"

Lucifer smirks, but doesn't take his eyes off Cas. "This is almost set up like a trap. Are you trying to trap me, Brother?"

"There's no point in trying to trap you, Lucifer. We all know you could kill us with a snap of your fingers. This … this is merely a display of comradeship."

"Well, your comrades are loyal - if not stupid - I'll give them that."

"What do you want, Lucifer?"

"To talk to Dean." When nothing but silence follows, he holds his hands up, palms out. "I won't touch a hair on his pretty head, I promise."

Tessa's grip on your arm tightens, and that's what does it, that's what forces you to _move_. Because you've been standing there, watching and listening and doing nothing, while everyone else in the yard stands up to the devil. And you just know that part of the reason they're doing it is to protect you.

Because you _him_. You're the guy who has to kill Lucifer, so you're the guy these people are going to do everything they can to keep safe. And it doesn't hit you until Tessa's hand squeezes you arm. You realise then that these people - even the reaper who kind of scares the crap out of you - will die to protect you.

And you won't let that happen.

You yank yourself out of her grip and step forward. It's a show, of course. You don't want these people dying for you, and you'll do whatever you can to stop it from happening, but this act of bravery is just that - an act. And you figure Lucifer knows it, can see right through you, especially when you stop next to Cas, not yet willing to go any farther.

"Talk then." And you're so fucking pleased with how strong and fearless your voice sounds.

Even more than that, you're thankful neither Cas or Tessa have stopped you. They might have kept you out of their secret meetings, but doing something to stop you now would just show Lucifer how unqualified you really are for this job.

Lucifer smiles at you, and it's scarily unnerving. "Dean. So nice to see you."

You roll your eyes. You actually roll your eyes at the devil, and you don't know if it's entirely sheer stupidity that makes you do it, or if your brave act is becoming less of an act. Maybe being face-to-face with Lucifer brings out the courage in you.

Or the stupidity.

Either way, you shove your hands deep into your jeans pockets and play it totally cool.

"You wanted to talk, so talk."

You expect him to drop the smile, but it grows.

"Very well, let's get down to business." He takes a step forward. "Dean, this place isn't for you. I'm not sure what Castiel did or said to get you here, but you shouldn't be here. This isn't your war."

"So, what? You want me to just go home? Leave them to it?"

"Exactly."

"Yeah, I don't think I'm gonna do that."

Lucifer sighs. "Dean, did Castiel tell you that he wasn't the only one who's been searching for you these last few years?"

"He did." Plus there was that whole thing with the demon at that club …

"Did he tell you what's happened to the Deans I've come across?"

You snort. "Yeah, you kill them, right? Because why put up a fight when you can just get rid of anyone who _might_ be the guy who can take you out."

"Careful, Dean," he says, and his eyes narrow. "I'm here to give you an out. The opportunity to go home, pretend none of this ever happened … I can even make you forget, if that's what you want."

"What I want is to stop you from killing whatever other Deans are left. And these guys." You wave an arm around to indicate the rest of the group.

"And you're willing to risk everything to do so?"

You are. You don't know why, especially when you don't know any of other Deans, and most of the people around you probably don't give a shit about you. But, yeah, you're willing to do whatever it takes to stop this guy … demon? The devil.

"Very well," he continues when you say nothing. Then he raises one hand and clicks his fingers. What you assume to be demons burst into sight next to him, each of them holding a captive on their knees in front of them.

"Fuck."

Your heart plummets. It's Ellen and Jo, and you know it's _your_ Ellen and Jo because Jo's wearing your old Black Sabbath t-shirt. She's wanted it since the first time she saw it on you, and you finally let her keep it a few months back after she 'accidentally' dripped nail polish on it one night.

You don't think, you just do. There's a gun right there, on the porch railing, and you grab it as you head down the steps, intent on shooting every devil and demon that turns up.

"Dean!" Cas calls to you, but you ignore him.

Too bad if you've never held a gun before in your life; in front of you is your family, and you will do every-fucking-thing you can to keep them alive. If that means dying in the process and not doing the job Cas wants you to do, then so fucking be it.

You're unable to continue once your feet hit the gravel of the yard, though. Your feet won't move - are literally stuck in place. A growl escapes you, and you turn your upper body to stare at Cas.

"Let me go."

He shakes his head. "I'm not the one holding you back."

"Then do something!"

"There's nothing I can do." And to prove this, he attempts to lift his foot. Behind him Tessa is doing the same, and when you turn to face Lucifer, you can see that everyone here who is, or might be, on your side, is stuck to the ground and unable to do a damn thing to help you.

You glare at Lucifer. "Let them go."

"No."

"I'll leave," you say. "I'll do whatever you want, just let them go!"

"I'm sorry, Dean," he says, and it kills you how almost-genuine he seems, "but you had your chance."

"No. Please. Let them go."

"I can't do that."

Hot tears burn the backs of your eyes, and you finally take a proper look at Jo and Ellen, something you've been avoiding. Their clothes and faces are filthy, there are a couple of cuts on their faces, and their hands are secured behind their backs.

And the demons above them have one hell of a grip on their hair.

They both stare at you, looking so defiant and fearless and unruffled , but you can see that hint of desperation and panic and pleading. But they both stay silent, stay strong. For you. You know it's for you. Jo knows everything you knew Sunday night, but you don't know what Ellen knows. You don't know if she knows why you're all here, or even where here is.

But you do know she won't let you see her afraid.

You look back to Jo, and you can see the stain on the sleeve; the hot pink of it stands out against her pale skin, the skin you can see clearly for the first time since meeting her, and for the first time since you arrived in this fucked-up universe, your vision goes blurry until it's just a pink smudge.

Things come right after a few blinks, and you meet her gaze and give her a solid nod.

You look at Lucifer. "Kill me instead."

"Dean, no!" It's Jo's voice, but it's broken and pained. You don't look at her.

"Send them back, kill me, then you won't have to worry anymore. I won't be around to even try and kill you."

He cocks an eyebrow. "Oh, Dean. I don't want to kill you. I want to hurt you."

He clicks his fingers again, and Ellen's body goes up in flames. Your scream dies in your throat, but Jo's continues until the flames go out and there's nothing but a pile of ash on the ground.

"No," she says, staring at the place her mother was. "No, no, no, no, no …"

She continues, muttering to herself, but a movement out of the corner of your eye grabs your attention. You glance right to see Bobby fidgeting, staring at Jo, almost making a move to go to her.

You look back at Jo, and she's ruined. Her entire body is slumped, tears drip down her face, and the look in her eyes is nothing but death. You force your gaze away from her and back to Lucifer, and your next words are crazy, stupid, the worst fucking words you could possibly say, but you know they won't make a difference. Nothing will make a difference to what he has planned.

You sneer at him. "I'm going to enjoy killing you."

He smiles. "I'm going to enjoy watching you try."

He doesn't bother clicking his fingers this time, so you don't know anything's happened until Jo starts moaning. You look at her, and she's squirming in pain.

"Jo?"

She falls to the ground, shaking and screaming in pain. You keep calling out to her, nothing but her name. You don't know if she can hear you over her own screaming, but it's the least you can do.

"Jo! _Jo!_."

Her skin begins to … _boil_. There's no other word for it, and you stare, horrified as she turns red and blistered, her skin searing and scorching until her entire body explodes into nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The parts from John WInchester's journal were taken from a PDF I found online, and in no way belong to me :)


	3. Part Three

****

**PART THREE**

Saliva pools in your mouth, and you don't do anything to stop it. You fall to your knees, and puke. You throw up the fear and the anger and the absurdity. You let it all out, and tears leak from your eyes when you're done.

Someone kneels next to you, and presses one cool hand to the back of your neck, and the other to your forehead. You lean into the soft touch for a few moments, until your stomach rolls again and you let out whatever's left. This time you don't stop until all that's coming up is bile.

But when you do stop, something's different. There's turmoil all around you, but you ignore it in favour of focusing on the heat coursing through you, the fury at what just happened. You let it take over and you submit to it. You sit up straight, and Sarah's hands fall to her lap. You mutter a _thanks_ to her, and stand up, trembling with rage.

Everyone's moving and yelling. There seems to be an argument going on between too many of people around you. Sarah's with you, Garth is carving more symbols into the surrounding cars, Jody's placing a thick blanket over the area Jo and Ellen were, and Bobby's staring at said blanket.

You don't know where Crowley or Gabriel have disappeared to, but everyone else is yelling or being yelled at. You get to your feet and stare at them long enough for Jody to arrive next to you with a bottle of water. You take it, if only to rinse the taste out of your mouth.

And then you let that heat and fury take over.

"Cas?"

He either ignores you or doesn't hear you over the commotion. So you try again.

" _Castiel_!"

Everyone goes silent.

Cas, who was in deep conversation with Tessa, turns to face you.

"Dean. I … I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Oh, you're sorry? You're _sorry_? Well, gee whiz, Cas, that just makes everything so much better."

"Dean, please -"

"Don't. Don't you dare try and placate me, Cas, not now. My best friend … my - my _family_ were just murdered! Right in front of me! And I just stood there and let it happen. I refused to leave - to leave this place, you, this mission - and for what? So they could both die horrific deaths?"

"Please," Rufus scoffs, "they weren't even the real Ellen and Jo. The _real_ Ellen and Jo died years ago."

You suck in a harsh breath, but Bobby turns on him before you get the chance to reply.

"You'll shut up now if you know what's good for you, Turner. They might not have been our Ellen and Jo, but they were real, they were Ellen and Jo, and they were his." Bobby turns to face you, and you have to clench your jaw at the kindest expression he's given you yet. "There's nothing you could have done, kid. He'd have killed them no matter what."

"I - what do you mean?"

Bobby looks at Cas. "You wanna tell him, or should I?"

Cas sighs. "Dean, I told you before we got here that Lucifer has been searching for you. That he's been killing the Dean's he did find just in case they decided to come after him."

"So?"

"So he didn't just kill them, Dean. He tortured them. He made them sit and watch as he killed everyone and anyone that might have been remotely close to them." Cas steps closer to you. "If you hadn't come with me, Lucifer would have simply killed you along with Ellen and Jo and whoever else was around."

Your clenched jaw twitches. "You knew. You knew he would do that to them?"

"I suspected, yes."

"Fuck." You turn away, unable to even look at Cas. He's an angel, a fucking angel … how could he let this happen? How could he bring you here, knowing that your family back home would end up dead?

"Dean."

"No."

"Dean, please."

You spin around to face him. "Here's the deal, Cas. You need to show me what I'm fighting for. Because all of this so far? It's bullshit! Secret meetings about me? People who can't stand to have me here? My family being killed right in front of me? Dude, you're not giving me much incentive to help you and your _comrades_ out."

"There's a lot you don't understand."

"Then how about you tell him?" Gabriel asks from the doorway. He walks onto the front porch, and you briefly wonder where he's been hiding all this time.

Cas stares at him. "You know I can't do that."

"Why not, Cas? You know he's right. He's being completely left out of the loop, and considering he's right in the middle of everything, it's a little unfair."

You scoff. "Well at least someone gets it. I mean, it's someone who hasn't said a single word to me since I got here, but as if that matters, right?"

"Keep your panties on, Dean-o," he says, and strolls down the stairs like none of the recent events happened. He ignores your glare and stands in front of Cas. "I know there are things you can't say yet, brother, but you need to give him a reason to fight. A reason to fight for us."

They stare at each other for a long time, and then Cas turns his head to stare at you.

"Very well," he finally says. "If that's what you want, Dean, then I'll show you your reason to fight. I'll show you everything - the good, the bad, and the ugly."

You follow Cas through the maze, still shaking with anger and grief. You try not to think about that, though, and simply concentrate on whatever's about to happen. You haven't been here long enough to have the maze mapped out, and you genuinely have no idea where you are.

There is a purple and green scooter you're sure you've already passed twice, though.

You shove your hands in your jeans pockets and watch the backs of Cas' boots.

"You bringing me out here to kill me, or something?"

Cas glances at you over his shoulder. "Excuse me?"

"What are we doing out here, man? When you said you'd show me everything, I figured it meant explaining all that stuff on Bobby's desk."

"We'll get to that later. Right now I want to show you what's really important."

"And to do that we need to be all the way out here?"

"Yes. This is the area I always use for transporting through realities."

You stop. "Wait. We're doing that again?"

Cas turns to look at you. "You want a reason to fight don't you?"

"And I'm going to be given that in another universe?"

"Well, you'll certainly see why you _need_ to do this."

He continues down the path, and though you're not sure you believe him, you follow. You don't have anything else to say about it, and it's going to give you answers, so you don't fight it. You go with it and let it distract you from what just happened.

You stop when Cas stops, and though he said it's the area he always uses, it doesn't look at all familiar. You don't worry about that, though; you hold out your arm, and let Cas get to work, glad for the physically painful distraction.

"Right," Cas finally says, after healing the both of you. He's painted the sigils on the side of the very same Combie that exists in your universe. You stare at it a moment, not sure how you missed the flowers and peace sign last time. "Are you ready?"

"Sure."

You do as Cas does, and press your palm to the sigil. Warm light enfolds you again, and when it leaves, you're standing outside someone's house. You step back and look around, but you don't recognise where you are. Which, considering you're hidden around the side of the house like a creepy pervert, isn't entirely surprising.

You look at Cas. "Where are -"

He presses his hand over your mouth to shut you up, and you know it's wrong and insulting and so not okay that your first thought is totally inappropriate. It's not that you _want_ Cas to shove you against the wall, press himself against you, and not let you speak, but it is the first thought that comes to mind.

"Quiet," he whispers. "We don't want them to hear us."

You nod slowly, and all thoughts of Ellen and Jo disappear as you realise exactly what's going on. This isn't your world, and this isn't Cas' world. This is a whole other world you know nothing about, and it's both bizarre and exciting. You briefly think of _Back to the Future 2_ and the flying cars, self-drying clothes, and fast-cooking pizzas.

Sure, that's set in the future, but for a moment you wonder if other worlds are ahead of your own.

Cas carefully removes his hand. "Do not speak, do not move unless I move, and, whatever happens, do not leave my side. Understand?"

You nod again, and he stares at you for a long moment before stepping back. He doesn't go any farther, but tilts his head slightly and frowns, as though he's trying to hear what only dogs can. You put it down to being another weird thing that Cas does, and take a quick look around.

It's suburbia. You can't see much, but what you can see is green grass, freshly painted houses, and perfectly shaped trees. You can hear kids screaming with delight, dogs barking happily, and parents yelling to their kids to be home for dinner. And you can smell pie. Not that store-bought stuff that's good enough, but homemade, real-deal apple pie.

Again, you don't know what you were expecting, but it wasn't this.

"Come on," Cas finally says, and leads you towards the front of the house. He stops right at the corner, and you obediently follow suit. And then wait. And wait and wait and wait, and you're just about to ask Cas what's the hell's going on when you hear a voice.

More specifically, your voice.

You startle, spin around to find the source of the voice, and it's only Cas' hand on your arm that keeps you from forcing your way through the bushes hiding you.

You stare at him, wide-eyed, and whisper. "That's me."

"A version of you, yes."

"Holy shit."

Cas, his warm hand still on your bare arm, steps closer. "We need to be quiet. If they see us … well, let's just say it doesn't always work out for the best."

You nod and step a little closer to the bush. "Where exactly are we?"

"Lawrence, Kansas."

"I was born in Lawrence."

"I know."

You stare at the other Dean, watching as he pops the hood of the car in front of him, and straining to hear as his voice gets obscured by the hood of the Honda.

"Relax," he says, "I'm gonna have her up and running again in no time."

"I hope so, I really need it to get to work tomorrow."

The voice is soft and feminine, and pulls you out of the trance-like stare you had on yourself … no, on _Dean_. A Dean that isn't you, but looks and sounds just like you.

Weird.

You blink a few times and take in the scene before you; Sam's there, and it takes you three or four steadying breaths to remind yourself that it isn't Lucifer you're looking at. He look _exactly_ the same, but there's something different in his face - something softer, warmer.

He has his arm around a short, blonde girl you can only describe as adorable. She looks sweet and kind, somewhat familiar, and when she asks Dean another question about her car, she even sounds sweet and kind.

You don't know this Sam - or _any_ Sam, for that matter - and you see Lucifer when you look at him, but you do hope this girl is sweet and kind. There's a part of you that feels like Sam deserves someone sweet and kind.

You push that away, though, because _you don't know Sam_.

You don't know your parents, either, but your breath catches at the sight of them. You only have one photo of them, and some very vague memories, but you'd put money on the two people closest to the house being Mary and John Winchester.

You soak them in - his leather jacket, the scruff on his cheeks, his cheeky grin as Dean shoves Sam's shoulder slightly; her loving smile, her rosy-cold cheeks, the way she leans into John. Her voice, his voice, the way they smile at each other and their children. They look happy, and you _know_ they're not your parents - just as Sam isn't anything to you - but it makes you happy to see.

Dean and Sam continue to talk about the car parked in the driveway, but you ignore them in favour of watching your parents - well, a version of your parents. It's fascinating, and possibly slightly morbid, but you can't help yourself. This is what your parents would have looked like, sounded like, acted like had they lived.

You're pulled away from them by the arrival of a car. Your car. Your Impala. Your heart races at the sight of it, and you stare longingly at something so familiar, so welcoming, that you almost miss the people climbing out of it.

The woman is tall and beautiful, and the kid … the kid runs at you, asks what he can do to help, and beams at you. He looks at you as though you're his fucking hero, and you've never been looked at like that. Not once.

"Hey, buddy," Dean says, then turns to the woman. "Babe."

She smiles just as wide as the boy, and leans in to kiss Dean. It's not a lingering kiss, but it's not platonic, either. It's romantic and comfortable. This is a women Dean's been with for a while now, possibly years, possibly longer than the kid has been around.

You glance at Cas, who looks way too on edge, but seems to understand your desperation. He shakes his head.

"The boy isn't his," he says. "Though he might as well be. This Dean is the only father Ben has known."

You turn back to the scene in front of you - the family in front of you. Because that's what they are - you can tell just by looking at all of them; the blonde teasing the kid about girls, Sam and John discussing the Honda Dean works on, and Dean's girlfriend and Mary going inside to prepare dinner.

It's a family. It's beautiful.

Cas shuffles next to you, but you ignore him. You watch and listen and take in everything you can … and it hurts. You could have had this. You could have had the happy parents, the relationship with the kid that might as well be yours, and, shit, had they not died you could have had a Sam.

That thought hits you hard, and you stumble back. Is that the reason you're the only Dean without a Sam? Because you're parents died before they got the chance to have one?

Your stomach rolls at the thought, but you're not sure how to feel.

You turn on Cas. "What the fuck is this?"

"Dean, please, keep your voice down."

You storm back down the side of the house, angry at Cas, but understanding where he's coming from. "What is this shit?" you ask in a harsh whisper. "Why are you showing me this? It isn't bad? It's everything but! Jesus, Cas, this is the apple-pie life every kid wants. This is the fucking apple-pie life I wished for growing up!"

"Exactly." Cas steps close and his breath is warm against your face. "This isn't bad. It's good. Great even. And it will look like Heaven once you've seen what else is out there. Dean, this is what we're fighting for. This is the kind of thing we need to save, the kinds of lives we need to stop Lucifer from ruining."

"But -"

"But nothing. You think just because we've found you he'll stop?"

"I … no." Yes, but you don't want to admit it.

Cas sighs. "Lucifer will ruin every Dean he can until you back down. And, if you do back down or if he kills you, he'll still ruin every Dean he can find. Just to be sure none of them end up willing to take him down."

You swallow back the sick feeling in your throat. "How - how many Deans out there have this? How many still have something good going for them?"

"There are one hundred and eighteen universes in the multi-verse," Cas reminds you. When you simply nod, he sighs. "Less that half of them."

"Less that half?"

"Well, not every universe was _this_ good to begin with, I'll admit that, but I've never come across a Dean who didn't have _someone_ to live for." He pauses, frowns hard, then seems to shake himself slightly. "Out of the one hundred and eighteen realities there are, Lucifer himself has ruined just over half of them, let's put it that way."

"Fuck."

"Precisely."

You hate the next words out of you mouth. "I think - I think you need to show me the other side of things. You know, the not-so-good realities."

"You don't sound as sure about that now as you did back at Bobby's."

You glare at the almost-smirk on Cas' face. "Shut up. Finding out that Lucifer personally ruined fifty-something Deans' lives, and being a Dean myself … well, whatever."

"Whatever?"

"You said this is Heaven compared to what else is out there, so forgive me if I'm not as excited as I once was about seeing Hell."

Cas actually flinches at that, but nods. "You need to see it."

"I know I do."

"Are you ready?"

"Nope."

He smiles. "Should we go anyway?"

You sigh. "Yeah, okay."

It's another case of cutting, painting blood on the closest available surface, and healing before you begin to truly wonder what it is you're about to see. You don't get the chance to give it much thought, though, because Cas gives you a nod and you both press your hands to the bloody sigils on the house.

Warmth, light, the middle of nowhere. You look around as you lower your hand, distantly wonder why your hand never comes away bloody after touching the sigils, and shiver at the cool air.

"Where are we?" you ask Cas, and this time you whisper without being told to do so.

"Just outside of Kansas City."

"Are you supposed to be in the middle of the bush? Because I honestly don't see even a hint of human activity anywhere."

"That's kind of the point."

"Huh?"

"Less than half a mile that way, just beyond that tree line, is Camp Chitaqua."

"Kind of late in the year for summer camp, isn't it?"

"Chitaqua was a boot camp, not a summer camp. Now it's home to Dean Winchester, Chuck Shirley, and … well, another Castiel."

You turn to look at Cas so fast your neck hurts. "There's more than one you?"

"Of course."

"Right. I guess I just figured … I dunno."

"Every reality is real, Dean. This one is just as real and important as yours, as mine, as the one we just came from. I know it might not seem like it, seeing nothing more than a driveway, or Bobby's house, but there's an entire world surrounding the places I'm taking you."

You nod and breathe deeply. "One hundred and eighteen of them."

"Exactly. And each world, each universe, has its own Castiel, its own Lucifer, its own group of angels."

"Okay, so what's the deal with this universe? Dean, Chuck, you … no Sam? Bobby?"

Cas begins heading toward the line of trees he had just pointed out. You follow. "This universe is very similar to the one I live in," he says. "Sam has said yes, Lucifer has caused the apocalypse, and it's a war-zone out there."

"How is that any different to where we were at Bobby's?"

"In this universe, Dean is alive."

"Does that really make such a big difference?"

Cas shrugs. "Apparently."

You don't get it, but you follow along behind him and ask no more questions. If Cas thinks this is something he needs to show you, then he must have a reason for it. He must have genuine motivation for bringing you to a universe that's so damn similar to the one he lives in.

Once you get through the trees, it's easier to make out the chain-link fence surrounding Camp Chitaqua. Barbed wire tops the fence, while the bottom is hidden by thick weeks and pieces of trash. And inside the fence, behind the guy strolling around the perimeter with a rifle in his hand, is more junk; old cars, empty refrigerators, old TVs that have clearly been used as target practise.

If this is their version of the maze that is Bobby's scrap yard, then it's kind of lame.

"Stop here," Cas whispers. He falls to a crouch behind a bush, and gestures for you to do the same.

You do as he says, and though he didn't like you asking questions last time, you do it again anyway - this time you keep your voice down, though.

"What are we stopping for?"

"While searching for you, I did some research on other realms. Unless things have drastically changed in the last month, we should be seeing another version of us in just a few minutes."

"Will they see us?" you ask. "I mean, if they already know about Lucifer and demons and stuff, what can it hurt, right?"

"No. They won't be seeing us. They know all about the supernatural world, and this other Castiel might even know about other realities, but … no."

"Just no?"

"You might understand once you've seen them."

You don't like it when Cas gets all mysterious. In fact, you kind of hate how much more than you he knows, but you guess it's not surprising. He's an angel - you're a lowly human with next to no knowledge of the supernatural world.

So you sit and wait, and you wonder what exactly Cas expects to happen, but nothing really comes to mind; it's impossible to expect anything at the moment, when you're in a whole other reality with an angel by your side, so you're safer to just wait and see.

It doesn't take long, though, and less than ten minutes later Cas nudges you and nods towards the camp.

You look up at see a group of people heading your way, and it takes you a moment to find the Dean of the group, and even longer to find Cas. And when you do find Cas, something in your gut twists unpleasantly.

"This is … different," you mutter.

Cas says nothing, so maybe what you're seeing is relatively common for him - you've definitely seen most people at Bobby's carrying a gun as they walk around outside. But what you're seeing now is different, and you don't know if it's the girl being dragged along by handcuffs that gives that away, and the heartless look on this Dean's face.

It's almost a sense of déjà vu, though - the guns, the camp, the way this universe's Cas almost looks stoned.

You forget about that and pay attention as the guy dragging the girl throws her into an old chair. You recognise her immediately, but you figure your first demon isn't something someone would forget easily.

"Is that -"

"You remember Meg, don't you?"

That old chill resurfaces, and you shudder slightly. The guy who put her in the chair doesn't bother tying her down, and instead begins spray painting on the cement ground.

"What's going on?" you whisper.

"He's painting a devil's trap. It will keep her from escaping."

You snort. "I can't believe it's that same demon."

"Yes, well, Meg has … quite a history with this Dean."

You frown. "What kind of history?"

"Not the pleasant kind."

"Huh."

"She's also very loyal to Lucifer. Not willing to give up an ounce of information."

The Dean and Cas of this universe talk quietly to themselves as the big guy finishes spray painting, and starts to set things out on a nearby table.

"What's she doing here then?"

Cas almost smirks. "She's their prisoner."

"They caught a demon?"

"Catching a demon isn't as hard as you would think. Catching this demon, though … whichever the realm we're in, this demon is definitely more difficult than others."

"How'd they capture her?"

"Honestly?" Cas glances at you out of the corner of his eye, and it's the first look he's given you since everyone from the camp arrived. "I think it was pure luck."

You look back at the scene in front of you just in time to see Dean step forward.

"That's enough," he says, voice a lot lower and rougher than your own. The guy you don't know seems to know exactly what he means, and he picks up his gun and leaves the area.

And all that's left is you and Cas watching another version of you and Cas. And a demon. The same demon who caught up with you the night you agreed to go with Cas. You glare; all you know is her name and her loyalty, but you already hate her.

Cas - the high Cas who looks like a goddamn hippie - moves to sit on the hood of a nearby car, while Dean goes to stand in front of Meg. She smirks at him.

"What's this, Dean-o? Round eight? Nine?"

"Does it matter?"

"Nope. We could get up to the hundreds and it wouldn't change a damn thing. You should know that."

He shakes his head with a cool smirk. "I'll get something out of you eventually."

"And if you don't?"

"Well, I won't die trying … _you_ might die while I try, though."

She laughs. "Yes, yes, let's begin the torture with a couple of nasty threats to my life. Maybe doing that again will get me to talk! Come on, Dean, how about something a little different? Something with a bit a zest, a bit of passion … I know you hate me enough for it."

"You have no idea how much I hate you."

"Should we do the list again? One, I possessed your brother; two, I tried to kill your dad; three, I took care of that cute blonde who kept hanging around; four, I can't seem to stop flirting with your boyfriend -" She stops abruptly when Dean holds up a water bottle, threatening to squirt her with it. She smiles. "Go ahead."

"Holy water," Cas explains quietly, but all you do is nod, too invested in what's going on in front of you to reply.

Dean chuckles softly and throws the bottle away. He picks a shotgun up from the ground, cock it, then aims. He shoots her right in the kneecap, and Cas' hand on your shoulder is the only thing keeping you from jumping out of your skin.

Meg's scream is deafening, and you look at Cas with wide eyes.

"Rock salt," he says, not taking his eyes off Dean. "Demons and salt do not mix."

"Jesus."

The screaming stops with a couple of groans that come through gritted teeth, and then Meg seems to shake herself back into confidence.

"You're a real son of a bitch, you know that?"

"Let's leave my mom out of this, shall we?"

"Or we could go into some real good detail about her," she suggests. "You know, the burning flesh, the singed hair, the screaming and crying and -"

"Really?" Dean interrupts. "How about something a little different? Something with a bit of zest, a bit of passion …"

She smirks at her own words thrown back in her face. "Yes, well, I suppose we have talked about your mom plenty in these last few months. And your dad. And Sam."

"Yep, the whole family. Not much left, huh?"

"There's the angel."

Dean's face goes dark with hatred and murder, but you don't think you'd notice it if you didn't have the exact same face. Meg doesn't seem to realise - or, if she does, doesn't show it, and you honestly don't think anyone's that good of an actor. It's the same face you see in the mirror everyday, but it terrifies you.

He goes to the table behind him, and picks up a frying pan. Meg lets out a throaty growl, thrashes in her chair, but doesn't attempt to get away.

"What -?"

"Iron skillet," Cas answers. "Iron will burn a demon if they're touched by it."

Dean doesn't just touch Meg with the skillet, he backhands her across the face with it. You're close enough to hear the crunch of bones breaking, and see the spurt of blood fly to the ground, and it makes you sick. Cas' hand on your arm keeps you steady, but you have to take deep, steadying breaths through your mouth to keep from throwing up.

And it's odd, because Cas has cut your arm open twice that very day and neither time was a problem for you. You saw the blood leak out of your own arm, even helped paint the sigil onto the house at the last universe, and never once felt ill at the sight of it.

But maybe it's not just the blood that's getting to you. Maybe it's Dean.

He waits patiently while Meg recovers from the hit to her face, and once she's sitting upright again, breathing heavily with blood flying from between clenched teeth, he nods toward her.

"Ready?"

"Go fuck yourself."

He shrugs. "I'll take that as a no." He heads back to the table and you move your gaze from his to the Cas of this universe.

He still on the hood of the car, and not paying even a bit of attention to what's going on. In fact, if you're not mistaken - and you're pretty sure you're not - he's rolling a fucking joint and whistling softly to himself. You glance at Cas next to you, but his gaze is clearly stuck on Dean.

The Cas on the car puts the smoke between his lips, digs inside his pocket for something, and comes out with a packet of matches. The smell of weed drifts quickly, and you scoff in disbelief.

"I mean, I'm not gonna lie and say I've never partied, but here? Now?"

Cas nods tersely. "Yes, well."

"How is that okay? He's an angle, for fuck's sake!"

"Keep your voice down," Cas whispers with a quick glare. "And he's not an angel. Not anymore."

"He … what? Fell?"

"I suppose you could put it that way."

"So what is he now, then?"

Cas looks at you like you're an idiot. "Human."

You nod stupidly and look back at the camp just as Dean leaves the table and heads back to Meg.

"Honestly," Dean says, taking his time, "I just don't feel like I'm going to get much of anything out of you today."

She cackles out a laugh. "You're not gonna get _anything_ out of me today, Dean-o."

"Right. So how about, instead of trying to get you to talk, I just enjoy you a little instead?"

Her already fair skin pales, but she sits up a little straighter. "Didn't think demons we're your type."

"Depends on what I'm doing to them."

Meg says nothing, but you see her gaze flick towards Dean's hands. You do the same. He's holding something dark and sharp, but it's not until he lifts up it with a flourish that you recognise it from a high school text book as a heretic's fork.

It's clearly poorly made, though, and it occurs to you quickly that Dean probably made it himself. Probably sneaked into a high school after the apocalypse hit and used the shop room's crucible or furnace to melt down some iron.

It also occurs to you that you're beginning to think like a hunter, and you're not sure how okay with that you are.

You watch silently as Dean grabs Meg by the hair at the back of her head and tugs her back. She doesn't say a word as he places the prongs of the fork just under her chin and against her chest, then ties the strap of leather at the back of her neck.

You glance at Cas. "Is he really doing this?"

"It won't kill her."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "That doesn't make it okay!"

"Shh. And remember, she's the same demon who attacked you the other night."

"Except a different version."

"Yes, a worse version."

"How so?"

Cas turns to look at you. "The Meg from the other night is indirectly responsible for the death of the Jo and Ellen I knew. This Meg, the one being tortured right in front of us, is entirely responsible for the death of the Jo of this universe."

You suck in a breath. "She killed Jo?"

"She killed Jo."

"Then why isn't he killing _her_?"

Cas looks back at Dean before you can distinguish the look in his eyes. "Because he wants her to hurt."

When you look back at the _torture_ going on in front of you, Dean seems to be carving something into Meg's bare arm while Cas continues to smoke - and drink, apparently, if the bottle of liquor beside him is anything to go by - and watch quietly.

Meg doesn't make a sound, either. She grits her teeth against the heretic's fork that seems to be sizzling her skin, but her mouth is curled into a sadistic smile, almost as if a part of her enjoys the pain Dean's putting her through.

"Smile all you want," he says, "it won't work."

"What won't work?" Her voice is tight from the effort of keeping her head up.

"You're trying to get under my skin, and it's not going to work."

"It might."

"It never does."

"I don't know about that … you seemed pretty tense when I brought up the angel."

Even from where you are you can see Dean's entire body go rigid. She's clearly talking about Cas, whether he's still an angel or not.

"That's what I thought," she says with a laugh that causes the iron fork to cut into her skin. She hisses something that sounds truly demonic, then calms herself. "You haven't quite managed to stay calm when I threaten him, have you?"

Dean scoffs and walks back to the table. "Please. Angel-turned-druggie or not, Cas could kill you without a second thought."

"Is that right, Clarence? You'd kill me? Just that that?"

Cas blows out a lungful of smoke. "Maybe later. My high's too good for that kind of carry on right now."

She laughs, but it's abruptly cut off when Dean returns with a bag of salt and rubs some into the wound he just made. Meg screams again, and it turns into a howl when Dean pours holy water over her arm.

You glance at Cas. "This is insane."

"This is their life."

"Their life. Right. So this is just an everyday thing for them? Torturing demons? Getting high?"

"Yes."

"Fuck."

It's something you have trouble comprehending, and even more than that, a Dean with _that much hate_ inside of him is just … unfathomable. You don't get it. You went through some shit as a kid, but you were never so cold, so detached. So ready and eager to hurt people.

Demons. Whatever.

But then you think about this demon - this Meg in particular - and anger flairs through you, hot and jarring. And, yeah, you want her to hurt for that alone.

When you look back at Dean, he's injecting a needle into Meg's eye, and you literally have to force yourself not to look away when she opens her mouth to scream; the fork cuts deep into her throat, and the amount of blood it causes makes you weak at the knees.

"Salted holy water," Cas whispers. "And he's probably using rusty needles."

Another scream comes before you can reply, and, you don't want to believe it, but it looks like Dean is slicing and peeling away Meg's skin. There's a piece of flesh clearly missing on the cheek you can see, and he's bent over her left arm, cutting again.

"Rusty knife -"

"Stop." You hold a hand up to Cas, genuinely needing him to just stop. "This is - this is getting barbaric."

"Getting?" Cas asks, dryly.

"I'm ready to go."

"Are you sure? Because he's just getting started -"

"I'm sure."

"Very well." Cas stands and walks back the way you came, and after a moment or two to get your breathing under control, you get up and follow.

It seems to take longer getting back to wherever you need to be, and the slowly fading sounds of Meg's screams don't help. You're sure she deserves whatever she's getting, but you don't like that it's you - or a version of you - who's doing it to her. You don't like that there's a version of you out there who could do that to someone.

Although, this version of Dean seems capable of a lot. You wouldn't put anything past him, and you only spent fifteen minutes watching the guy. You don't know him, you just know the way he looked at Meg, at Cas, at the world. Anger, hatred, and disgust don't even begin to cover it.

And it's all because of Lucifer. Well, a different Lucifer.

You frown. "Hey, Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"Who's gonna kill this Lucifer?"

Cas stops walking and turns to face you. "That's a fair question."

"I have a few of them, you know? Fair questions that still need to be answered."

"Yes, well, I suppose I haven't exactly told you everything."

You chuckle. "Man, I'm guessing there's a lot you haven't told me."

Cas is silent for a long moment before he answers. "Dean, Lucifer is an archangel. That means his grace is connected throughout every universe he exists in."

"Isn't that … _every_ universe."

"My mistake. I mean every universe where he exists on earth. And there are only two."

"The one here and the one back at Bobby's." _Back at Bobby's_ isn't exactly the right way to put it, but you don't know what is so you stick with it.

"That's right. Of course it's possible that Lucifer might someday be released from his cage in one of the other universes, but I've yet to see any sign of that happening any time soon."

"Okay."

"My point," Cas says, stepping close, "is that once one Lucifer on earth is killed, _all_ Lucifers on earth will be killed."

"How does that even work?"

"As I said - he's an archangel; his grace ties him to every other _him_ on earth there is."

"Grace?"

"His powers, his … _mojo_."

You nod slowly. "So you're saying that, if I kill the Lucifer I saw just this morning, I'll be killing the Lucifer that exists here, too?"

"That's correct."

"Huh. No pressure, or anything, right?"

"Actually there's a lot of pressure. I did say Lucifer is killing every Dean he finds on the off chance one of them will come after him - despite the fact that he looks just like Sam - but all our hopes really lie on you."

You blink, two, three, four times. "Wow, Cas. Thanks."

He frowns, and then, "Oh, sarcasm. Of course. I'm sorry, I'm usually quite good at picking up on it, but I tend to miss it when the subject being discussed is Lucifer. Something Gabriel finds frustrating; I know you haven't spent a lot of time with him, but he's, as they say, very fluent in sarcasm."

"Right."

Cas clears his throat. "So, shall we continue?"

"Uh, one more question."

"Yes?"

" _How_ exactly do I kill Lucifer?"

Yeah, you asked it. You've been toying around it since you arrived, and you just know that Cas has been avoiding it, too. You shove your hands into your pockets and raise an eyebrow.

"Dean, I understand you have a lot of questions -"

"Don't do that, man. Don't avoid the questions - just answer it."

"I will! Just please understand that I can't tell you everything yet. It's all very complicated, and you need … you need to understand the universe we live in better before I can tell you everything."

That shouldn't appease you, but you nod and accept it for what it is. "Okay. Well, what can you tell me?"

"I can give you a very literal, yet probably unhelpful answer as to how you will kill Lucifer."

You chuckle. "Yeah, okay. Give it to me."

"You will use an Archangel blade. One of the few things that can harm Lucifer."

"Well. Okay then."

It's not much, but it's something. Actually, it's almost nothing, but Cas seems pretty confident that he has a plan of some kind … even if he can't give you all the details yet.

"Now, let's continue to the next universe," he says.

You nod, and when Cas pulls a knife out of his back pocket, you open your mouth without thinking.

"Do you have another? I wanna do my own."

He side eyes you. "Really?"

"Yeah. C'mon, man, I've seen you do this a bunch of times now. I can do it."

"You want to do the sigil as well?"

"Why not?"

He's silent for a moment, and then nods. He pulls a second knife out of his boot. "Very well."

And then he waits and watches while you cut your own arm open, and that's the only reason you do it without squirming - or backing out completely. Once it's done, you give him a satisfied smirk and he smiles. He quickly cuts his own arm, then drops to his knees to brush leaves away from a large rock.

"Just do what I do," he says, and begins.

So you do what he does, careful to stick to the same size, angle, and shape. It's a lot more difficult than you thought it would be, but if Cas has done this _at least_ one hundred and eighteen times, then it's no wonder he makes it look easy.

The worst part is the blood, though. It hadn't been a problem all morning, and you don't know if it's watching Meg get tortured bloody or because _you're_ using _your_ blood, but it's gross and hot and sticky.

"Ready?" Cas asks, and you know you're not imagining the amused glint in his eye when you look at him.

"Let's do it."

Cas nods and reaches forward, and you follow his lead. Again, light surrounds you, only this time when it disappears, you're exactly where you were; the same ground is beneath your knees, the same blood-covered rock is in front of you, and the same sun is shining down on you.

The only difference is that both Cas and his bloody sigil are gone.

You stand, nervous in the silence of the strange universe, and -

 _Silence_.

Meg's screams have stopped. You don't know where Cas is, and you're not one hundred percent sure you know where you are, so you do the only thing you can think of and head back towards camp.

With your heart pounding the whole way because what if you get caught? Wouldn't that just be the icing on the fucking cake of the day.

You tread slowly, unsure if you're heading in the right direction. Eventually, though, you hear voices, and stop mid-step. When you look up - all the while letting out a steadying breath - you find Meg is gone, and Dean and Cas are left alone at the torture sight.

You're only a few feet away from the same bush you and Cas had hid behind, so you hold your breath and sneak over. You make it without being noticed, but that doesn't stop you from shaking. You saw what Dean did to a demon, and Sarah told you that shape shifters exist … you don't want to know what will happen if Dean catches you and thinks you're a shape shifter.

You force yourself to stop dwelling and start listening.

"- didn't have to be that rough on her," Cas says. "You really went a little too far this time."

"You kidding me, Cas? The bitch killed Jo and Balthazar! And you think I went too far on her?"

Cas shrugs. "I dunno. I'm supposed to be the angel on your shoulder, aren't I?"

"You haven't been _that_ angel since that night in Hartford."

"And we all know who's to blame for that."

Dean glares. "Whatever man, if you truly blamed me for your dramatic fall from grace, you wouldn't crawl into my bed every other night."

"You complaining?"

"Who's gonna listen if I did?"

Cas smirks. "If you didn't want me to crawl into your bed every other night, you wouldn't steal my weed so I have to come looking for it. Nor would you get hard at the mere mention of you and me and your bed."

Dean's jaw clenches and you stare in shock. Sure, you're into dudes, and you even flirted with Cas that first night at the _Roadhouse_ , but you never expected this! _A_ Dean and _a_ Cas … fucking. Huh.

You glance at Dean, and sure enough, there's definitely something going on in his jeans. He says nothing, though, and Cas continues.

"Or maybe it's not me that's got you all hot and bothered. Maybe it's _Meg_."

Dean scoffs. "Fuck off."

"Not the demon herself," Cas corrects, "just, you know, what you did to her."

"You think I get my rocks off by torturing demons?"

"I don't think you hate it."

"Yeah? Well I think fuck you."

Cas laughs, loud and obnoxious, and you fear for him. You can't see Dean's face, but his body is tense and … you just don't trust the guy. He might be screwing around with Cas on a regular basis, but you don't feel like that means much of anything here.

He stalks up to Cas, who's now leaning against the side of the car, and gets right up in his face.

"What's your problem today, huh?"

"Who says I have a problem?" Cas asks, and even holds his hands up in surrender.

"Your fucking attitude does."

"Please. I say worse than this daily. The only reason you're getting your pretty pink panties in a twist is because of Natasha."

Even from where you are you can see Dean's fists clench that little bit tighter, but he plays it cool.

"What about Natasha?"

"C'mon, Dean, we both know that, as our fearless leader, you know every going on in this camp." Cas wriggles his body slightly. "So you know she spent last night in my room."

"So? Who hasn't spent a night in your room?"

"Touché." Cas presses his face closer to Dean, and you can barely hear him when he continues. "but usually it's two or three at a time, not just the one."

"So?"

"So I think you're jealous; worried I've replaced you."

"Please."

Cas laughs. "Begging now, are we? I guess, for me, having only one girl in my bed is almost a type of commitment, but I might be willing to let her go for you, Dean."

Your breathing is tight as you watch, because you don't know if this is going to end bloody or naked, but you're pretty sure it's going to be dirty either way. You half expect Dean to either punch or kiss Cas after that comment, but instead he takes a breath and a step back.

"How high are you right now?" And he says it seriously enough that Cas answers seriously.

"Not nearly high enough."

"Huh. Because it sounds to me like you're some kind of fucked-up delusional, and if it's not the weed causing it, then what is it?"

Cas just smiles and licks his lips.

Dean nods. "Yeah. You want me to be jealous. Is that it?"

"It's a form of emotion that isn't anger. That would be a nice change."

"Hilarious, you are. Fucking hilarious."

Cas looks skyward. "I'm sorry, Dean, the only word I heard there was _fucking_."

There's a rumbling noise, loud and dangerous, and it only takes you a split second to realise it's coming from Dean. Just as you do realise, he's shoving Cas back against the car he's already leaning against, and pressing himself close.

Not in a nice way, though - not in the way you did to girls and the occasional guy in high school. This way is mean and forceful, and Cas seems to love it if the moan he gives out is anything to go by.

Dean laughs, and it's entirely mocking. "Oh, so that's what you wanted, huh? All that irritating me was just to provoke me?"

"Isn't it usually?"

In response, Dean rocks his hips against Cas' a few times, gritting his teeth together when Cas eventually thrusts his hips up to meet him. As their breath mingles, your own becomes rapid and heavy. It's fucked up, the entire situation is just another moment of fucked up on the list of all the fucked up things that have happened lately.

You're watching another version of yourself get down and dirty with another guy. And it's hot. Fucking hot. You didn't know you were into this kind of thing until it was happening right in front of you, and now that it is, you want more. More than lust-filled glares, more than shared breathing that isn't even remotely close to kissing, more than grinding against each other fully clothed.

Your own dick is hard in your jeans, but you're not stupid enough to do anything about it. Not now, not in another universe, and not when that other universe has _that_ Dean.

So you watch quietly, breath hitching as Dean pulls back to shove Cas' pants to the ground. You can't see Cas' cock from where you're hiding, but you see the skin of his hip and leg, you see Dean's fingers dig into the flesh, you see the way Cas' back arches beneath Dean's touch.

Cas' fingers make busy work of Deans jeans, and then they're rubbing and moving against each other, grunts and groans cutting through the rough breathing, hands grasping and gripping every and any inch of skin available.

You grit your teeth and fist your hands to keep from making noise or touching anything, but you have to press the heel of your hand to your hard cock when Cas' hand disappears between his and Dean's body, clearly wrapping around the both of them and stroking furiously.

It's an effort to keep yourself in check as the Dean rocks himself into Cas' fist, and you only just manage it when he comes, hands pressed against the roof of the car behind Cas as he shudders. Cas follows quickly after, and you have to look away when he brings his hand up to lick clean, for fear of coming in your pants.

When a decent amount of silence follows, you look up to find them kissing. It's exactly the kind of kiss you'd expect from these two, too - rough, wet, biting - but it's a kiss nonetheless, and you can't help but think, _hope_ , that has to mean _something_.

After a quick minute to pull themselves together, they walk away and you're left staring after them in shock. Did that really just happen? Right in front of you? Christ. You've seen some things in your life, and you've seen some seriously fucked up things since Cas came into your life, but that was something else.

That was something else, and it's left you half hard and entirely confused.

A hand lands heavily on your shoulder, and you jump to your feet, almost flying out of your skin as you turn. Cas is there, staring at you expectantly.

"Christ, man, you scared the crap out of me."

"Come. We need to get away from the camp."

You go with him, and try to compose yourself the entire time. Cas effectively killed whatever impact this realms Dean and Cas had on you, but your heart is still thudding from the fright of possibly being caught, and your brain is still going a million miles an hour from everything you've seen here.

Cas stops, and when he turns to face you he almost looks nervous.

Your eyes narrow. "Wait. You are Cas, right? The same Cas, I mean?"

"I am."

"And I'm supposed to just believe you?"

He smiles, and almost seems pleased with you. He takes his knife out of his pocket and quickly makes himself bleed.

"Well. Okay then."

"And now you."

"Oh. Right." You do the same, but you don't notice the pain or blood at all this time. You continue once the knives are away and Cas has healed both himself and you. "What the hell happened?"

"I was wondering the same thing," he says, "but upon returning here and inspecting your sigil, I see there's a very small crack in the rock."

"What?" You bend down to check it out, and, sure enough, there's a barely visible crack cutting into the bottom of your sigil. "Damn."

"It's my fault. I should have been more careful, should have double and triple checked your sigil before letting you use it."

You shrug. "No harm done. At least it just left me here rather than taking me to a whole other universe on my own."

"Yes, that could have been problematic."

"Yep."

Silence follows, and you know you're not imagining it. It doesn't take much to figure out what's causing it, either. Cas is a smart angel; he figured out where you were quickly enough, and he came back and got you … and he didn't say a word about it until the other Cas and Dean were out of sight.

You shrug. "So, did you and the Dean from your universe ever …"

He blushes. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, were you guys together, too? Or is it just in this universe?"

"No! I - no, of course we weren't."

You step close. "Really?"

"Really."

"I'm not sure I believe you."

"We'll I'm telling you the truth."

"So you and Dean never …"

"No."

You peer closely at him. "But you wanted to?"

"It's not like that."

"Then what is it like? There was clearly something there - and if the way you stared at _that_ Dean wasn't enough evidence, then your reaction to me asking about it sure as hell is."

Cas sighs. "Dean and I, we did share a very deep, very profound bond. When I saved him from Hell, I left a mark on his soul and we become _connected_. And I - I may have come to realise, in the years since he left, that the intensity between us was what most people would consider to be sexual tension."

"A profound bond and sexual tension? Sounds like something soul mates are made of."

He looks at you, and you can just make out the serious pain in those eyes, and you know you're not the Dean he hurts for, but you can't bring yourself to look away. Despite the fact that having you around must make the ache ten times worse for him.

"That's - this is why you've stayed away since I got to Bobby's, huh? Kinda weird having a Dean look-alike around when you really miss the original."

He nods. "Yes, something like that."

"Sorry, man."

"It's not your fault," he grits out, but it sounds like he blames you entirely.

"Uh …" You scratch the back of your neck. "I guess we should head to the next one, right?"

"Very well."

"Wait!" You stop his as he goes to find another rock to use. "You rescued him from Hell?"

"That's another story for another time."

He continues on, and this time refuses to let you make your own sigil.

When the light leaves this time, you're entrenched in darkness.

"Cas?" you whisper quickly, knowing you should keep your mouth shut.

"I'm here," he says, and his calm voice reassures you. "We're in a storeroom with only a window as light, but your eyes should adjust in a minute."

He's right. The small window above you shows no moon, but a couple of bright stars, and it doesn't take long to make out the basic shape of a mop and bucket next to your feet, a couple of shelves against the walls around you, and a door to your back. You search the dark for Cas' eyes.

"Where are we?"

"The Santa Rose Mental Health Institute."

You're not sure why, after what you've just seen, this surprises you. But Cas did promise to show you the good, the bad, and the ugly. The first universe he showed you was clearly the good … you're not sure what the last universe would be described as, so you have no idea what you're about to see.

Cas is silent for a while longer, and you know by now not to say anything, so you wait. Minutes pass, and Cas finally opens the door, letting a sliver of artificial light through.

"The nurses just made their rounds, so we have at least twenty minutes," he says, looking back at you.

"For what?"

"You'll see." He slips out of the door, and all you can do is follow.

The corridor is silent, white, and clean. There's not a single window around, but the walls are covered in the kind of paintings you assume should be in mental health institutions - calm meadows, floral arrangements, clear lakes - they kind of make the cheesy motivational posters posted everywhere a little more bearable.

You follow Cas when he turns left, left again, and then right. You frown, wondering if you'll get to wherever it is you need to be before the twenty minutes are up.

You step a little closer to him. "You seem to know routine of some of these universes pretty well."

"Yes. While searching for you I came across versions of you and Sam both - and myself, I suppose - that held my attention. Versions that I've occasionally come back to check on."

"That nice. And creepy."

Cas smiles. "There's not a lot I can do for most of them, but some of them … with some of them, just seeing me helps."

"I thought they weren't allowed to see us."

"Most of them, no. But there are one or two …"

He trails off mysteriously and stops in front of a closed door. He doesn't bother knocking before opening it, and when you follow him inside you're shocked at what you see.

Sam. For all intents and purposes, it's just another version of Sam. But you're still in that weird place where this is the kid from all those dreams, yet it's hard to think of him as Sam because when you first saw him in person he was Lucifer. And he killed Jo and Ellen.

This Sam looks nothing like that Sam, though - nothing like Lucifer. This Sam is pale and gaunt looking. Almost sick, even. You stare at him in the stark light of his room, feeling awful that even the way his eyes light up at the sight of Cas isn't enough to make him look better.

There's more, though. This Sam - this _kid_ \- is young. You're pretty sure every Dean in every universe is the same - you haven't heard anything otherwise - and you assume every Sam is, too, but … maybe not this one. This one is so thin and frail that he looks years younger.

"Cas?" He sounds so hopeful, though. He jumps to his feet and reaches out a hand to grip Cas' arm, almost as though to make sure he's real.

"Hello, Sam. How are you?"

He sighs, whole body sagging in the white scrubs he's wearing.. "Relieved. It's been a while. I thought maybe you weren't real, either."

"I promise you, I'm very real, Sam.

"Yeah, but …" He trails off with a shrug, looks sadly at the ground, and it's pretty obvious that he's used to people _not_ coming back. He blinks a few times then, and when he looks up again, he finally catches sight of you.

He gasps and takes a step back, and a shudder seems to rack his whole body. Then he shakes his head, causing his tangled hair to flop around a little, and seems to pull himself together.

"Sam?" Cas asks. "Are you okay?"

Sam looks at him. "This is him, huh? The one you were looking for?"

"This is him."

Sam stares at you again. "He looks just like him."

"They all do."

You clear your throat. "I'm standing right here, you know?"

Cas smiles, but it's directed at Sam. "I brought him here to show him how life has turned out for you. Would you like to tell him your story, Sam? Or should I?"

"Are you sure that's such a great idea? I mean, it's not exactly a nice story. Lots of, you know, death and destruction. And drugs. I mean, that's basically how it goes, right? Death, destruction, drugs. Just like that."

You stare at him - you've seen an addict or two in your day, and this kid definitely doesn't look healthy, but you don't think he's in here due to drugs. Cas, once again, senses your confusion.

"Prescribed drugs," he says. "Sam is on a number of antidepressant, anti-anxiety, and anti-psychosis drugs."

"They help keep me sane. Or at least that's what they tell me." Sam shrugs and stares at you. It occurs to you that he hasn't looked away from you since he first noticed you. "I don't believe them, though. They tell me one thing, my memory tells me another. And it's not like the drugs work; I still believe exactly what I told the police and the court and the judge."

You look to Cas for more information, but he just stares calmly at Sam. You look back at Sam.

"You wanna know why I'm in here?"

You shrug. "Sure."

He sits himself on the edge of his bed. "We were hanging out one night - me, Dean, and Cas - when this guy turns up in front of us. Out of nowhere, he just appears in front of us while we're cooking dinner, and what's even weirder is that he looks just like me! And then he starts killing Cas, without even touching him. Somehow Cas is on the ground, bleeding out from some invisible force."

"Jesus."

"Mmm, it gets worse. Dean tries to fight him, because that's what Dean does when someone he loves is being hurt, but this guys starts choking Dean - lifts him off the ground, one-handed - and asks Dean how he likes seeing Cas die right in front of his very eyes. Then he tells Dean that he's next, but his death will be relatively painless because hurting Dean emotionally always works better than hurting him physically." Sam pauses, eyes unfocused on something behind you. "But he doesn't have to worry about Sammy. Oh no, Sammy's living through this one - all the while Sammy's being held against the wall by some other invisible force - and he's taking the blame. His prints are all over the place - on that bloody knife that's appeared next to Cas, and all over Dean's neck. He'll spend the rest of his life in jail, with the whole world thinking he killed his brother and his friend - or in a psyche ward because the world things he's a fucking nutcase -"

"Sam." Cas steps forward and holds out a calming hand. Sam pants softly and nods, taking a moment to calm himself.

"Right. Yeah. Gotta remember to breath." He rubs his fingers through his hair and looks back at you. "It wasn't me. Everyone thinks it was because, like the guy said, all evidence pointed toward it being me; no forced entry, I was the only one to survive, and the DNA from the skin under Dean's fingernails was all mine. Only not mine."

You nod. "Not yours."

He smiles, and though you believe what he's saying, it's one fucked-up, crazy-ass smile. He leans forward slightly, and whispers, "It was the devil."

"Lucifer."

"Yep. He looked at me afterward, once Cas had bled out and Dean was dead, and his whole body seemed to light up. Then he walked over to me and told me I was important. I needed to stay alive, just in case he ever needed me." Sam stares at the ground, eyes unblinking. "Then he licked his lips, and his tongue - it was … there were two."

"Two?"

His gaze snaps up to you. "Now you see why I'm in here, right? I sound delusional, don't I?"

"Well, yeah," you say honestly. "But I believe you."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

He stands and comes close, voice a whisper when he speaks. "For a while there, I thought they were right; I thought I was going insane, that I had killed these two people who were my family. I didn't know if it was the pills making me believe it, or if I was just so insane that my mind was turning on itself, making me believe what wasn't true." He pauses, laughs. "Then it all got really confusing and I tried pretty hard not to think about it."

Cas hands him a glass. "Have some water, Sam."

He takes the water, but continues quickly. "Then Cas showed up. Thought I truly was a lost cause when I saw that happen, but it was in the common room, and I wasn't the only one to see him."

"Cas is real," you assure. "So am I."

"Yeah. He sighs and sits back down. "But you ain't him."

"No. Sorry."

"You didn't have a Sam?"

"Nope."

He nods. "So you're gonna kill him. You're gonna kill the devil."

You glance at Cas, then back at Sam. "Well, that's what they tell me."

"Yeah … you know, you should probably kill me, too. I did kill my brother, after all." And he's so serious when he says it, so remorseful, that you take a step back.

"We need to get going," Cas says. "I'll come back to see you once the world is right again, Sam, and I'll do my best to fix what I can."

He shakes his head. "Don't bother. I don't deserve to have anything fixed for me. It's all my fault, I killed them - Dean, Cas, Bobby … should I continue? There's quite a list in the bigger scheme of things."

"Get some sleep," Cas says, and presses his fingers to Sam's forehead then helps him lie down. Sam's asleep when you next see his face, but even in his sleep he looks unsettled.

Cas indicates that it's time to go, and you follow. You move a lot quicker through the halls this time, and when you get to that same storeroom, you sneak inside just before a nurse rounds the corner. You wait until his footsteps have long gone before turning on Cas.

"That was … weird."

"Yes."

"He didn't … I mean, one second he's saying it was Lucifer, the next -"

"I believe it was Lucifer," Cas confirms. "But knowing that doesn't make Sam sane. He's right to be in here; he's - he's not whole, and I'm not sure if that's due to what he's seen, or what he's done."

"Right." You clear your throat. "Where to next?"

"Home."

"Home?" And for a split second your voice is hopeful, eager, because home is Ellen and Jo and Bobby. It doesn't take long for that to come crashing down, and you realise Cas is talking about his home.

"Yes. I think I've shown you enough for one day. Plus, the travelling will begin to get to you soon, and there's a good chance you'll simply pass out before we get back."

You want to tell Cas that you're not that weak, that you can handle it, but you're too tired to do so, and that in itself tells you he's right. This moving-between-realities thing is exhausting, and it's definitely beginning to catch up with you.

"Right. Let's go then."

Another bloody arm, another painted sigil, and another cover of warmth, and you're back at Bobby's. It's dark, you can't hear noise coming from the house or garage, and all you really want to do is go to bed. But you can't just wander back to the house and go to bed, because you don't know how to get back to the house by yourself.

You look back at Cas and find him staring at you.

"What?"

"Is that enough?"

"Is what enough?"

"Everything I've shown you today." He steps close. "I know what happened to Ellen and Jo is terrible, and I truly am sorry about that, but I need to know if I - if _we_ can count on you, Dean."

You sigh. "This morning I lost two of the three most important people in my life; I don't see how helping you is going to change that."

"So …"

"So, whatever you need me to do, I'll do it. Or try to." You run a hand through your hair. "I'll do my best."

"Thank you, Dean." Cas sighs, genuinely relieved. "Thank you."

You shrug, and watch Cas as he heads toward a few old pallets stacked haphazardly next to the old Combie. He pulls out a flashlight and clicks it on. It flickers a few times before glowing at full light. He gives you a look as if to ask _ready?_ and you nod.

Though you know you'd still get lost in the maze if you tried to head back alone, this trip to the house is a lot quicker and easier than your first. Maybe because you know what you're walking in to this time.

Cas does take a slightly different route, though - and you're impressed that you realise, especially in the dark - and when you walk past what looks to be a beat up Impala SS Convertible, you're reminded of one of the not-so horrific dreams you've had over the years.

You don't know if it's the car, or all the Sam, but it's definitely not a dream you've dwelled on - no blood, no death, no torture. Just general weirdness, and people you didn't know.

You catch up a little closer to Cas. "I had this dream once," you tell him, "one of many, really. Anyway, there was this guy - and I now know that guy was Sam - but he wasn't human. I mean, he was human, but in the dream he had been turned into my car."

Cas stops short. "Sam had been turned into your car?"

"Yeah. My Impala."

He stares at you. "You remember that?"

"Remember? No this was a dre - wait. _This happened_?"

"I - I …" Cas stops, and he looks more uncertain than you've ever seen him. Eventually, he forces out a cough. "I'm exhausted from all this travel. Shall we head in?"

You grab his arm as he turns to leave. You're no more than a couple of yards away from where the maze breaks into the scrap yard, but you don't see anyone around. Jody or Bobby or someone will be on guard somewhere close by, and a couple of people will be doing rounds, but for the moment, it's just you and Cas.

"Cas. C'mon, man, spill."

He stares at you for a long, intense, moment before finally doing what you told him to.

"As I said earlier, there's a lot you don't yet know or understand."

"And?"

He inhales, exhales, continues. "And since you arrived here you've been hearing a lot of _it's him_ in regards to you. But what Bobby doesn't realise - what none of them yet realise - is that you are him. You are _him_."

"I don't understand."

"Dean, I told you the night we arrived here that I could see your soul, and that soul is the same soul I pulled out of Hell all those years ago. I don't know how it's even possible, but you _are_ the Dean Winchester from this universe."


	4. Part Four

****

**PART FOUR**

When you next wake up, your head is fuzzy and you felt like you haven't slept in a week. The smell of coffee is strong, though, and strong enough to pull you out of sleep.

You open bleary eyes, and Sarah's hovering over you with a steaming mug.

"Black and sweet," she says, voice soft.

You push yourself up into a sitting position, and fight back the wave of nausea that hits. It fades a little with the bitter taste of coffee, but your stomach still gurgles uncomfortably.

"How long?" you mutter.

"Same as last time - three days. Unlike Cas, you actually _need_ food and water, and no one felt comfortable letting you sleep any longer."

You grunt in reply, and she sits on the edge of your bed. She stares. You sigh.

"You know."

"Dude. _Everyone_ knows."

"Cas told them?"

"Uh-huh."

"And what? You all believe him?"

She shrugs. "Cas is our somewhat reluctant, yet relatively fearless leader; if he says you're him, then we believe him."

"But he could be wrong!"

"Maybe. But I doubt it. Especially when the only other two soul-seeing people here say the same thing." She sips at her coffee, and continues at your raised eyebrow. "Tessa and Gabriel. The reaper and other angel. Apparently they both knew what Cas knew the second they saw you."

Though you don't entirely believe what Cas said, this does suddenly make sense of Gabriel and Tessa's reaction to seeing you in the library that morning. In fact, Tess's _What have you done?_ rings silently in your head, and you frown.

Did Cas bring you back from the dead? The Dean from his universe is dead, this is something you've known for a while now, and Tessa seemed absolutely stunned when she first looked at you …

"Lots of questions, huh?"

"Just more to add to the list." Literally.

Of all the fucked-up things Cas has told you in your time here, this ones takes every cake-like dessert available. You hadn't believed him when he told you three nights ago - in fact, after staring at him for a good minute, you had ignored his words and headed straight to your room. You haven't left since, and you still don't believe him.

It's too much, too messy, too damn impossible.

"Cas is downstairs if you want to talk. Actually, everyone's downstairs; Cas has refused to say anything more than the basics until you're up and ready to hear it. Figures you shouldn't be the last to hear everything, I guess." She grins. "Plus, everyone's kind of been waiting for you to wake up so they can get another look."

You scoff. "Another look at the freak who's back from the dead."

"No. They all saw that after Cas pulled you out of hell, silly. Now, come one."

You smile at Sarah's don't-give-a-shit attitude, and get out of bed. You're still in the same clothes from when you and Cas went universe-hopping, and you probably smell like ass, but you're surprisingly eager for whatever conversation is about to take place.

You figure that whatever Cas has to say should be interesting, and throwing his theory back in his face should be fun. Because there's no way he's right.

But, on the off chance he has a point with his theory, if you really are _that_ Dean, then you're willing to bet you're not the only one with questions. Bobby, if he's anything at all like the Bobby you know, must be chomping at the bit to get some answers.

And answers is all you've really wanted since you arrived in his place. The way you see it, if Cas wants you to believe anything he has to say, then he's going to have to stop keeping so much from you. He has no reason to hide anything from you if you're _that_ Dean.

Downstairs is already silent when you arrive, with everyone gathered in the small kitchen. They all stare as you stumble in, still groggy with sleep, but not feeling quite so queasy. In fact, some food wouldn't go astray.

As if reading your mind, Jody hands you a huge plate of eggs. "Hope you like 'em scrambled."

"I like 'em however I get 'em." You take the plate and sit in the one empty chair at the table. Bobby sits opposite you, Gabriel next to you, and everyone else is either standing or sitting on the kitchen floor. Something about that seeming unsanitary goes through your mind, but then you remember it's kitchen counters you shouldn't sit on.

Not that it's ever stopped you.

You frown at your own trivial thoughts, do your best to ignore the eager expression on Garth's face as he sits practically at your feet, and shovel eggs into your mouth.

The silence continues, and you're tempted to see how long you can carry it out, how long you can make them wait, but you're not exactly feeling patient yourself. You look up at Cas, who's leaning against the counter and staring at you.

"Guess we should get this started then, huh?"

He stands a little straighter. "Yes. Should I start at the beginning?"

"I highly doubt there's a better place to start," Bobby growls. He looks angry, disturbed … hopeful.

You look away and pay attention to Cas. He huffs out a sigh and begins reluctantly.

"Four years ago, Stull Cemetery happened," he begins, and only looks at you. "I don't know how much of that you know or remember, but it was the showdown between Lucifer and Michael."

"Michael the Archangel?"

"That's right. Lucifer was using Sam as his vessel, and because you wouldn't say yes to Michael, he was using Adam."

You frown. Say yes to Michael? There's definitely a lot more to this story than what Cas is saying - and a hell of a lot more than what he's ever told you previously. Lucifer needed Sam to say yes to him, while Michael wanted you to say yes? You shake your head, unsure why it seems to make sense to you, and ask something else.

"Who's Adam?"

"Another story for another time," Bobby says. "Now get on with it."

Cas waits, still staring at you. Honestly, you'd rather hear whatever it is he's got to say than hear about some stranger - or Michael - so you just shrug. He continues, tells you about getting Michael with a holy fire Molotov, only to be killed by Lucifer for doing so.

"When I came back - and don't ask me how I came back, because I still don't have an answer for that - both you and Bobby were dead. Bobby's neck had clearly been broken, and you had been literally beaten to death."

You wince. "Gnarly."

"I did everything I could to heal you, to bring you back, but … you were gone. Your body was dead and your soul was gone. There was nothing I could do. So I went to Bobby, and I brought him back to life."

Though you're picturing it all in your head as Cas tells you the story, it's still hard to imagine. You've seen Cas heal both you and himself, but bringing someone back to life? Someone who is literally dead? Impossible. Except obviously not because Bobby is sitting across the table from you.

You take a deep breath. "How? How did you fix him and not Dean?"

"For this, I only have a theory, the same theory I told Bobby back then. You had just been killed by the devil who was in the body of your brother. In your mind, you _knew_ it wasn't Sam hurting you, but your heart felt otherwise. In your heart, it was Sam's fists hurting you, Sam's eyes staring down at you. So it gave up. _You_ gave up. You had nothing left to fight for, so your soul left your body, and that was it."

The entire room is silent, the people who knew or didn't know you before you arrived last week all listening intently.

"Bobby still had some fight left in him," Cas continues. "He was furious, and ready to take Lucifer down with his bare hands. His soul was still there, and bringing him back took nothing more than a touch."

You sigh. "Okay. Somehow, this is actually making sense to me - Dean gave up, Bobby didn't - but what I don't get is how I can be the Dean you think I am when I'm the Dean I actually am! You say I have his soul, but I know my own life; I know that there was never a - a soul-imbibing moment where mine left and his arrived."

"You're wrong."

You fist clenches around your fork, eggs forgotten. "Dude, don't tell me -"

"There _was_ a moment, though, wasn't there? A moment where you very nearly lost your life?"

"I …" You don't like to think about it, let alone talk about it. Cas looks smug, and you want to hit him. How does he know? How much does he know? You'd like to think he wouldn't be smirking like that if he knew exactly how that moment came about. You glare at him. "So? That doesn't mean anything."

"Four years ago, correct? Something happened, and after, once you realised you were going to live, you got in your car and drove, with no destination in mind. And when your car broke down, it broke down in Sioux Falls, South Dakota." He cocks an eyebrow. "Right across the road from the _Roadhouse_ , right?"

"Man, just because I told you some of this stuff doesn't mean you can just jump to conclusions!"

"But am I right?"

He is. It's exactly what happened. You did your best to overdose, lived, then got in your car and drove. You had no specific destination in mind, but you didn't stop anywhere for more than a night until Sioux Falls.

"Doesn't mean anything," you mutter.

"The boy's right," Bobby says, and you frown at him. You thought he'd want you to be the other Dean. "None of this is proof. I want Dean back just as much as you do, Cas, but what you're saying makes no sense -"

"It makes perfect sense."

"Not only that," Bobby continues, "but what does his car breaking down in Sioux Falls have to do with anything? That sounds like more of a coincidence than any kind of soul-searching."

Gabriel scoffs. "Please. We all know Dean is way too connected to his car, no matter the universe."

You try to take offence to that, but your mind is whirring with everything that's happening that all you can do is pay attention to the volleying conversation.

"Again, this all makes perfect sense," Cas says, and he begins to pace, every now and then glancing at either you or Bobby. "After Dean died, I couldn't find him anywhere. I told you that, remember? I was worried Lucifer had sent him back to Hell, so I checked there and Heaven and even the Veil, but he was nowhere to be found."

Bobby grunts, shifts in his seat. "Yeah, I remember."

"And it bothered me. It frustrated me why I couldn't find him, but then Michael went and closed up Heaven, and all angels on earth were stuck here. In the end I just assumed that Dean's soul was up there, that I had missed it - he had been in the Veil while I was in Heaven, and vice versa." He turns and stares at you. "But then, on my hundred-and-fifteenth universe, I walked into the _Roadhouse_ and saw you."

 _You seem very familiar_ , he had said. You roll your eyes at yourself.

"And here I thought you had been flirting."

"Yes. But I was … digging, I suppose you could say - digging to see what you knew. Turns out you knew nothing."

"All those questions, asking about my brother."

He nods enthusiastically. "That's right. When I found out you had found yourself inside the body of a Dean who had never had a Sam - _the only_ Dean who had never had a Sam … well. That's not just mere coincidence."

"How did it happen?" Jody asks, and her voice jolts you. You had almost forgotten everyone else was there, listening in to this conversation. "I mean, if what you say is true, then other Dean had a near-death experience, and … then what? What happened to his soul? How did our Deans soul end up with him?"

You look at Cas, eager for answers. He takes a long breath before answering.

"Obviously we don't know for sure, but what we - Gabriel, Tessa, and I - have figured out, is that other Dean's near-death experience happened the same time our Dean died. And their souls collided -" he makes his hands compress together in fists, almost like the opposite of how to mime an explosion "- causing them to switch places, if you will."

Silence. You stare at Cas, and then you look around the room, and the only people not frowning are Cas, Gabriel, and Tessa.

You shift in your chair. "I don't get it."

"Your body here had given up, Dean, but your soul hadn't. And the other Dean, the Dean you've been for the last four years, his soul had given up, but his body hadn't. He wanted to go - was ready to go - but his heart was beating and his lungs were breathing. His body was still living and ready to pull him back. So, instead, your soul - you're soul that, despite you having given up, _wasn't_ ready to go - went to him, and he went off to Heaven."

The realness of what he's saying hits you hard - you had given up, had been so fucking ready to die, but instead you lived and … _lived_. You went to Sioux Falls, and your life became good. It became the life you should have always had, and now Cas is telling you the only reason you got that is because your soul was gone.

You had the soul of the Dean who lived and breathed hunting, and his soul directed you to Sioux Falls, to the _Roadhouse_ , to Ellen and Jo and Bobby. Your soul - the soul you believe you've had your entire life - was never meant to have a happy ending after all.

You stand, the need for fresh air becoming slightly overwhelming. You don't like this. What Cas is saying, the things he's been talking about, they make you uncomfortable and queasy all over again.

"Dean?" Bobby stands, too.

"Yeah. I just … I need some air."

You take off before anyone can try and stop you, and hope like hell that none of them follow you. This is more to take in than anything you've been told so far - more than the killing-the-devil thing, more than the angels-and-demons-and-reapers exist thing, and a hell of a lot more than the multi-verse thing.

This is insane. Fucking nuts. Either you hit your head hard the night Cas first arrived at the _Roadhouse_ , or … or nothing. That has to be the only explanation. The whole thing is very _Oz_ , and you need to find you own goddamn fairy godmother, or man behind the curtain. Hell, even a loyal scarecrow would be nice.

"Dean."

You jump as Cas appears right in front of you. "Jesus fuck!"

He frowns, but lets your cursing go. "I'm sorry for startling you."

"You should be - you can't just sneak up on people like that, man."

"We need to continue our conversation."

You continue walking, getting deeper into the maze. "I didn't like our conversation."

He keeps pace with you. "Yes, I was very aware of that, but, Dean, the sooner you accept what I'm telling you, the sooner you will _know_ it to be true."

"What're you talking about?"

"You will … _feel_ it - if you don't already, that is - and there's even a chance your memories will come back."

"Super."

"Dean, this isn't a bad thing."

"For you, maybe. I've just found out the life I remember isn't my life at all. And the good part of my life weren't even mine! Instead some guy who hunts monsters, whose brother is the devil, who went to Hell overtook my body and used it for his own good time!"

You speed up, knowing you can't possibly outwalk Cas, but giving it your best go. Fists held at your sides, jaw clenched enough to hurt, you head through the maze, once again hoping to get lost. Or, better yet, to get out. Out of this maze, out of this place, out of this _universe_. Whatever. You just want to be gone.

Cas follows you, but keeps a decent distance between the two of you. You know he's only doing it to placate you, and you hate that you appreciate it, but you're not going to tell him to not do it. If anything, you want to tell him to get farther back.

If you thought it would do any good, you'd tell him to turn around and leave you alone.

You don't want company, and if you did, it wouldn't be his. It would be Jo's, but Jo's dead, because Cas brought you here instead of leaving you there to protect her, and the whole thing is completely fucked up, because no way are you the Dean from here. No fucking way.

You stop. You've never been in this part of the maze before, and right in front of you is your car. Only it's not yours. It's _his_.

But it's the Impala, it's your baby, and it looks really fucking good for a car that belongs to a guy who's been dead for four years. Nothing looks out of place on the dash, the seats are in perfect condition, and it's even clean - inside and out!

It tugs at you a little, just a sharp pull at something in your chest, and you're not saying Cas is right about anything, but maybe Gabriel is; maybe you are connected to this car, no matter what universe.

This car is the first thing you bought when you got out of the boys' home. It's the first thing that really belonged to you, that ever meant something to you, the first place you were ever able to call home.

"I wash her whenever I have the time," Cas says from behind you. You nod silently, and he continues. "I never expected to find Dean - _you_ \- but it seemed important to keep her in good condition. We never take her out, but looking after her just seems …"

"Right."

"Yes," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "It seems right."

You turn to face him. "If what you're saying is true -"

"It is true."

"Then you and I have some kind of profound bond, right?" And, yeah, you're still angry and definitely trying to make him uncomfortable.

"That's right."

"Then why don't I feel it? If there's such a strong bond between us, then why are you just Cas to me? Why aren't you _Cas_?"

He seems to understand what it is you're trying to say, but shrugs. "The same reason I wasn't _Cas_ to you when we first met six years ago - you didn't remember me then, and you don't remember me now."

"So you're saying that _if_ I do remember you and my life here, then I'll feel our bond?"

"It's certainly possible."

"Sounds like bullshit."

He smirks. "So does everything else I've told you in the last week."

You sigh, and plonk yourself down on an old desk next to your car. "Well, I can't deny that."

"I know it's a lot to process, but I swear I'm telling you the truth."

You ignore him. Three thoughts keep pushing their way through the mess in your head, forcing their way to the front of your mind, the tip of your tongue, until you can't help yourself.

"That night in the _Roadhouse_ ," you begin, "I felt something."

"What kind of something?"

"The soul-touching, Cas-becomes- _Cas_ kind of something."

He sits next to you. "Care to elaborate?"

"I don't know, man, it was just this weird, tingly, hot kind of feeling. Right here." You pat your shoulder in a manly way.

"There? On your shoulder?"

"Yeah."

"That's where I touched you when I pulled you from hell. Ask Bobby if you don't believe me - you had a mark there for a long time afterwards."

"What kind of mark?"

"A handprint."

You cock an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Huh."

You say nothing else, but don't really give it that much thought. There's not a lot you can think about it without going crazy trying to figure out how it's even possible. And once you start that, you'll begin trying to figure out how any of this is possible, and you've already learned that's a fruitless way to pass the time.

So you let another thought slip out.

"That dream I told you about. It wasn't just a dream, was it?"

He sighs. "I believe it was a memory. Sam being turned into the Impala is something that happened in this universe."

"What else has happened in this universe?"

He eyes you sideways. "What else have you dreamed?"

"Jo. Dying. Uh, she's in the middle of the road, and something invisible just … rips her open, man. I could see her insides, but couldn't find the thing that did it to her. I was afraid of it, though - fucking terrified, actually."

He nods slowly. "That was a Hell Hound. They are very terrifying creatures, and being that it's what killed you and took you to Hell, it makes every sense that you have fear towards it."

You stare, wide-eyed. "So it actually happened? That's how Jo from here died?"

"She died from the injuries the Hell Hound gave her, yes."

"Shit."

Cas fidgets. "Are there, perhaps, any other dreams you would like to tell me about? I could possibly confirm whether or not they happened."

You clear your throat. There're too many to sort through. You can do the math - you have done the math; four years of dreams every Tuesdays is a shit-load of dreams. Two hundred and eight, but that's just an approximation. There were repeated dreams, multiple dreams a night, and then the odd dream your last few days home that happened _not_ on Tuesdays.

You rub the back of your neck and tell Cas one in particular that always stood out. "Yeah, uh … well there was a dream where some girl - cute, tiny, blonde - was killed in a fire, but she was on the ceiling. Like, stuck there. And Sam … man, he was distraught. He was - he was devastated."

"That would be Jess. She was Sam's girlfriend at the time. I never met her, but I saw her Heaven. She died a terrible death, but when I saw her up there, she was happy and waiting for Sam."

"So that is how she died?"

"Yes."

You shake your head. "Dude, and you want me to _remember_ all of this? Pretty sure I'd be better off staying the Dean I am."

"Once you remember this life - _your_ life - the idea of killing Lucifer will become a lot easier."

You grunt, and then, because you're on a roll, spill out that one last thought that's been eating at you.

"My eyesight got all fucked up." You frown at your own _fucked up_ wording, and start again. "I mean, after my, uh, accident I couldn't see well. Everything went kind of fuzzy and blurry."

"After your near-death experience?"

"Yeah. Which is weird, you know, because nothing about what happened that night effected my eyes. But when I woke up in that hospital bed, something had changed and I couldn't see properly."

Cas nods. "That could very well be because your soul was gone."

You look at him. "It cleared up when I got here."

"It did?"

"Yeah. As soon as we arrived that morning, my sight was perfect."

He lets out a happy exhale, smiling widely. "Because you were home."

You don't think you'll really believe Cas about any of this until - or _if_ \- you remember it, but he looks so happy, so relaxed, that you can't bring yourself to do anything but nod.

Tessa hands you a knife. "Show me what you got, Dean."

You eye the knife wearily. You're standing in the garage, and it's your first time in there. It's the same garage you know and spent time in back in your universe, but … bigger. You know it's been renovated since the apocalypse began and Bobby needed more room for people to stay, but you're surprised at just how big it is.

Off to the right is a kitchen/lounging area, and to your left are a bunch of pretty decent rooms. The size of the garage itself isn't a lot bigger, but the transformation inside the place has made more room that you ever thought possible in a car garage.

There's a surprising amount of rooms, considering the only people who actually live in the garage are Sarah, Tamara, Garth, Rufus, and Frank. Tessa and Gabriel don't sleep, apparently, so they have no need for an actual place to live; Crowley's hardly ever around, which is something that bothers you when it should really be a relief; and Cas, Bobby, and Jody, all stay in the house.

But, at a guess, you think there's at least ten bedrooms built here. You wonder if more people used to live here, or if everyone's hoping more people will arrive.

Behind the bedrooms and living area, where you stand with Tessa, is the training room. To your right is a door that leads right outside, in front of you is a target wall, and strewn throughout the place are mats, weights, punching bags, and weapons.

It makes sense, you suppose. Though you've yet to see any kind of fighting, the people you've been staying with are survivors of the apocalypse; you figure people don't stay survivors without some kind of badass fighting skills.

You twirl the knife between your fingers, acting cocky. "Where do you want me to put it?"

"Gee, how about the target?"

You cough and fight a blush. "Right."

You ready yourself by taking off your jacket and rolling your shoulders a few times. Then you work on your stance - feet spread, right foot forward - nope, left foot forward. Once your feet are in place, you bend your knees, lift your arms up and down a few times, make a couple of faux throws.

Tessa clears her throat. "When you're done stalling …"

You ignore her. Even though she's completely on the mark, you just pretend you didn't hear her. But you do throw the knife.

And miss entirely. In fact, the blade doesn't even make it to the wall, let alone the target. It clatters to the floor a good three feet from the wall you were aiming for, and it's the sound of your humiliation.

Tessa doesn't say anything. She walks over to the knife, picks it up, then walks back to you.

"Now that that's out of your system, let's try again. This time, you might want to take a little direction first. Your soul might be that of the Dean we all know and love, but your brain and muscle memory sure as shit isn't."

"Ouch."

"Toughen up, sweetheart. Now, you're right handed, yes? Good, I want you to hold the knife with a secure but delicate grip."

You take the knife she hands you. "Secure but delicate? Isn't that an ox-something?"

"It's an oxymoron, dumb ass."

You make a face. "You're an oxymoron."

"No, the secure but delicate -" She sighs heavily. "Never mind. Now hold the blade like I told you to, the handle right across your palm, almost how you would hold a hammer."

You do as she says, already feeling much less awkward than when you attempted the entire throwing thing without any direction.

"Perfect," she continues, and she sounds kind of excited. "Okay, rest all of your weight on your right leg, and place your left leg in front of you. Lift your arm so it's parallel to the floor, then bend your elbow at a ninety-degree angle."

"Like this?"

"Just like that - wait, move your hand over a little, the last thing we need is you accidentally slicing your own ear off - good. Now, I want you to smoothly switch your weight from your right to your left foot, and at the same time, glide your forearm forward so that your arm is out straight again … Kind of like you're chopping wood. But _do not_ let go of the knife."

"Let go of the knife?"

" _Do not_ let go of the knife!"

You chuckle. "Oh, _don't_ let go of the knife. Got it."

She half-heartedly kicks you in the shin. "Do what I told you, if you even remember, and then do it again and again. I want to see you do this move perfectly before I let you release that knife."

"Yes, ma'am."

You do the manoeuvre a few times, while Tessa watches on vigilantly. She circles you, eyes everything about your stance and movements, corrects your footing once, then stands back and watches you move three or four more times.

"Okay," she says. "Now, remember, throwing knives isn't about strength. It's not about how tough you are, how hard you can throw, anything like that. It's all skill, grace, control. You just have to allow the knife to fly out of your grip at the right moment, and keep your wrist straight the entire time."

You frown at her. "The right moment?"

"Once you're pointing towards your target you'll just feel it. Give it a go - switch your weight with the movement of your body's travels, keep your wrist straight, and let go."

"And keep the knife away from my ear."

She grins. "And keep the knife away from your ear. Take a few breaths, ease into it, and go when you're ready."

Again, you follow her instructions, going with it until it just feels right. There's no thinking involved, no conscious breathing, just the flow and the feel of what it is you're doing - the feel of the pearl handle in your hand, the sight of the target in your vision, and the complete ease at how your body moves.

You practise your movements a few times, then let the knife slip out of your grasp. It hit's the target dead centre.

You look at Tessa. "Holy crap."

"You're a natural."

"Beginner's luck, man."

"There's no such thing as beginner's luck."

You stare at her. "So you genuinely think I'm a natural. Despite that epically bad first throw?"

She purses her lips before answering. "No."

"Exactly."

"I just think you're a tad rusty."

"Excuse me?"

She shrugs and heads off to grab the knife. "You're rusty. You haven't thrown a knife in years - four, to be precise - and you needed a bit of a refresher."

"This again? Really?"

"If Cas can't make you believe it, then someone has to."

"Does it have to be you?"

She hands you the knife. "Do it again."

You're tempted to throw really badly, but can't bring yourself to do it. If you can throw well, then you're not going to do anything other than that - it just seems silly to mess up a perfectly good throw if there's a chance that it might be a perfectly great throw.

So you throw, again and again and again, until the centre of the target is ruined and Tessa needs to put a new one up.

You expect the same thing to happen when you meet Bobby for shooting lessons a few hours later - you'll make a fool out of yourself with the first shot, he'll give you some instructions, then your natural ability will take over.

Or _Dean's_ natural ability. Whatever. You're still not entirely sure what you believe where that's concerned, but you can't deny that, whoever you are, you sure can throw a knife. Even if you are you and not that Dean, there's a chance you might have made a pretty decent hunter after all.

But instead of even picking up a gun to hand you, Bobby sits on a chair nearby and insists you do the same. So you do. It turns out the door your saw while inside the training room leads to the shooting range, which you and Bobby now sit at, in an incredibly awkward silence.

You're a couple of hundred yards away from the garage - closer to the creek that runs close by than you are to the camp and anyone who lives there, and for a split second you wonder if Bobby brought you out here to kill you. He hasn't exactly been welcoming, and he looks like the kind of guy who knows how to hide a body.

"You look like you're about to piss your pants," Bobby says, grinning.

"Well, you know, when the person who's been the most hostile to you since your arrival suddenly offers to teach you how to shoot, loss of bladder control is just one of those things."

"Yeah, about that … look, kid, I don't know if you are who Cas seems to think you are. Honestly, I don't see how you can be; I saw Dean's body - I _burned_ Dean's body. He was dead, and, yeah, obviously it's possible to come back from the dead, but …" He trails off with a shake of his head.

"You burned his body?"

"That's why I don't get Cas' theory. Burning the dead, that's a hunters' funeral, to keep the soul from becoming evil spirits and the body from becoming demons, but … maybe Cas is right, and your soul just left before we burned your body."

It's not set as a question, but it sure feels like one. There's still hope in his eyes, on his face, and you hate to disappoint. Whether he's the Bobby you remember or not, he's still Bobby, and he clearly cared about the Dean he knew. You just can't tell him anything - what he wants to hear, what he doesn't want to hear, you don't have an answer for any of it.

"I don't know, man. Maybe."

He clears his throat. "Anyway. Like I was saying, if you're him or not, I dunno, but I owe you an apology anyway. You seem like a good kid, ready and willing to help us out without much of an explanation, and, the way Tessa tells it, you're a goddamn natural with a knife."

"Beginner's luck," you mutter.

"Point is, I shouldn't have treated you so badly. Him or not, you're still a human being with, you know, _feelings_. And what happened to Ellen and Jo, well …"

He doesn't say anything more, and you don't say anything either. You wonder if it's what happened to Ellen and Jo that made him realise you're not just some machine brought in to kill Lucifer. You're, as he said, a human being with feelings. Their Dean or the Dean you know yourself to be, it doesn't matter, you're still a person.

You force a grin. "If this is you trying to apologise, well, it sucks."

He glares at you. "Idjit. Shut up and shoot some goddamn cans."

Bobby doesn't make you make a fool out of yourself first. He teaches you how to load the gun, how to unload the gun, how to switch the safety on and off. He shows you how to stand, how to hold yourself, how to aim. He explains how to breathe when you shoot, how to gently press your finger to the trigger, how to keep yourself from recoiling too much.

He teaches you how to shoot. You were never taught by a father-figure how to throw a ball, change a tire, mess around in the power box; these are all things you had to teach yourself until you got to Sioux Falls and Bobby began teaching you more and more about cars.

And this feels just like that.

"Ready?" he asks, and takes a step back.

You're not. As Bobby pointed out the first time he saw you, you've never held a gun in your life other than helping Jody clean them the other day, and that totally doesn't count. You suck it up, though, because if you're going to kill Lucifer then you clearly need to know how to shoot a gun.

You do what Bobby taught you to do, follow his instructions the same way you did Tessa's, and when you shoot, you hit your target, the can you were aiming for, spot on, just like you did with Tessa.

When you turn to look at Bobby, your hands are shaking slightly. "Beginner's luck, huh?"

"Maybe," he says, but he's staring at you with wide eyes, shocked.

"Should I, uh, try again?"

"Yeah. Yeah give it another go."

You give it another go. You give it as many goes as Bobby will allow before he begins to worry about going through too much ammo. And you hit your target every single time.

When you get back to Bobby's house later that evening, Cas is sitting there, waiting for you. Bobby left you to it about an hour ago, confident to let you clean the guns alone while he did some research, and it had been nice. The alone time had been good, and cleaning guns had been surprisingly relaxing.

But damn, you're glad to see Cas clearly waiting for you.

You sit next to him on Bobby's back porch and watch the sun go down. Cas hands you a cold beer, and you take it silently. The day wasn't exactly what you would call good, but it wasn't a total waste - questions were answered, tense relationships were put to ease, and it turns out you're a fucking natural at shooting guns and throwing knives.

Plus, whatever else is going on out _there_ , the view from where you're sitting is pretty fucking amazing.

"So …" Cas begins.

You tense. "So?"

"It's just that, now you know the truth about everything, there's something we need to do."

You look at him, and he looks as nervous as he sounds. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

"You need a tattoo."

"Excuse me?"

"An anti-possession tattoo. It's customary."

You cock an eyebrow. "Do you have one?"

"Of course not, I'm an angel."

"Does Bobby have one?"

He scrunches his nose. "Apparently. I asked him for proof once, but he told me where it was and I chose to believe him."

You choose to ignore that. "I dunno, man, is this really necessary?"

"Yes. And you won't find a human living here who doesn't have one." He shrugs. "But, if you're afraid -"

"I'm not afraid."

"Wonderful. Let's get this started then, shall we? Living room would be best."

Your stomach flips. Tattoos are cool, and hot, but that doesn't mean you want one. It definitely doesn't mean you can handle one. You don't do blood, and because you don't do blood, you generally don't do needles.

But you get up and follow Cas anyway, because it's necessary. And, yeah, you're that guy who doesn't want his _crush_ to think he's scared, but whatever. No big deal. Really. If you can have your arm sliced open three or four times in one day, then you can handle a tattoo.

Despite the nerves in your guts, you remain calm. You sit where Cas tells you to sit, and you watch as he pulls over the tattoo kit that already seems put together and ready to go. You suck in a breath at the sight of it; you went with Jo when she got her only tattoo - the one she got partly in spite of Ellen - and you had been more nervous than her.

In fact, Jo had calmly talked to the tattooist the whole time, and left with a date that following weekend. Your legs shook as you followed her back to the car.

"Right." Cas turns on the ottoman to look at you. "Where should we put this?"

Without much thought, you pull your t-shirt over your head and point to the spot over your heart. "Here?"

Cas stares at the spot for so long that it becomes awkward. You clear your throat.

"That - that's where you used to have it," he says.

"Oh."

He turns away quickly, snaps on some gloves that make you think more inappropriate thoughts, then gets to it.

"We started doing this as soon as Sarah turned up," he says as he opens a pack of alcoholic wipes, "so everything is new and sterile. You don't need to worry about infections."

"Uh, great?"

"Of course, on the off chance you do get infected, I can just heal you anyway."

"Um …"

He cleans the spot you had pointed to, and you jump at the cold wipe. Cas ignores it and reaches for the stencil. He places it gently on your chest, fingertips accidentally grazing skin as he does so. You concentrate on the symbol rather than Cas' fingers, though.

It's a pentagram surrounded by, what looks like, the sun, and you've definitely seen it around here before. You frown and you don't get how this is supposed to keep a demon from possessing you, but Cas seems confident in what he's doing, so you don't question it.

Until the tattoo gun starts.

"Wait! Are - are you sure this is necessary?"

He sighs and stops the gun. "Yes. There's nothing I can do for the pain while I tattoo you, but, if you'd like, I will use my grace to get rid of the pain and heal the tattoo immediately once it's finished."

"Really?"

"Sure."

"Cool."

You're pretty sure he rolls his eyes at you as he turns to get more ink in the gun. "Okay, ready?"

You nod, and he starts the gun up again. Then he begins tattooing you before you can try to back out of it again.

And it's really not that bad. To begin with it hurts like a fucking bitch, and you don't know why anyone would go through with this willingly, through this digging, gauging pain that hits far too many nerves. But after a while - when the pain becomes more constant, more of an irritation than anything else - you're able to ignore it.

It's still there, coming and going as Cas regularly stops, wipes, and starts again, but the real _hurt_ of it never lasts long. So you take the time, the close proximity, the privacy, to watch Cas, to watch the concentration of his face, the way his brow creases slightly, the occasional tilt of his head between wiping and starting again.

And then, once you've taken it all in - his eyes, his scruff, the length of his nose - you just watch and enjoy.

"It's not all bad, you know?" he says, not looking up from what he's doing. You wonder if he knows you're staring.

"What's not all that bad?"

"Life. This life." He pauses, sprays something nice and cool on your chest, then wipes it away. "Your life."

"Yeah, well, from what I've heard of it so far it sounds damn near peachy, Cas."

"I'm not saying it was perfect - far from it - but you had good memories mixed in there with the bad."

"I'll I've heard about is the bad."

He frowns, looking sincerely sad. "Yes. When we think about the life of a hunter, we tend to concentrate on the bad rather than the good. But even other hunters - Bobby, Garth, Ellen and Jo - they had good memories, too."

"Until they died their pointless death, right?"

Cas goes back to the tattooing. "The night before that happened, we were all here - you, me, Sam, Bobby, Ellen, and Jo. You and Sam were going over last minute plans for finding Lucifer, but Jo, Ellen, and I … well, we were drinking. A lot."

"An angel of the lord _drinking_!?" you mock-gasp.

"I believe they had similar thoughts, if the amount they made me drink was anything to go by. I think they were both impressed and amused by my tolerance for alcohol." He pauses to glance up at you, eyes solemn. "They both knew what they were getting into, both knew what could happen to any or all of us the next day, but that night? They were happy, Dean."

"Happy? Really?"

"For the most part. Bobby will tell you the same thing - you live this life long enough, you learn to appreciate the moments that aren't full of despair. Even if all that moment entails is teaching an angel of the lord how to play _I Never_."

You grin at the thought, and he continues his art and conversation at once.

"I do believe you also used your last-night-on-earth line on Jo, and she very happily turned you down."

"Dude, I did not!"

"You did. She told me."

"And you believed her?"

"Yes."

You pull a face at him, but he just smiles happily and keeps talking.

"Then there's the night you took me to a strip club."

"Oh yeah?"

He shuffles. "I don't like to go into details, but I am still proud of how hard I had you laughing when we were kicked out."

"We got kicked out of a strip club?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I'd rather not say."

You laugh, and it might be the first real laugh you've given since you saw Jo off after your _Back to the Future_ marathon.

"You got us kicked out of a strip club, Cas?"

He frowns at you, holding the tattoo gun out in front of him while you laugh. "When you put it like that it makes it sound like I did something wrong."

"In my experience, they only kick you out of strip clubs if you do something wrong, man."

He changes the subject, and your laughter dies down immediately. "Then there are the moments like this."

"Like this?"

"Yes. Not an hour ago we were watching the sunset, sitting with good company, enjoying a cold beer after a long day - that's something I've only come to appreciate since the apocalypse hit."

You nod. "There's definitely nothing wrong with a cold beer."

"Or a beautiful sunset."

"Yeah." You shrug slightly. "And I guess the company's not so bad, either."

He looks at you for a long moment before answering, and you spend the entire time thinking about kissing him. "I know you haven't had it easy since arriving here, but what I said that day is true; we're all family here. And whether you realise it yet or not, you're a part of that family."

You don't realise it, and you're not sure how much you believe it, either, but you nod along anyway. Cas goes back to your chest, and after only a few more minutes, declares himself finished. He even has a small mirror to hold up so you can see it properly, and, yeah, it's pretty badass.

"I can still heal it if you'd like me to," he says, "but I do recommend using this antiseptic cream."

"Yeah, okay." You reach out a hand for it, but he's already squeezing some onto his fingers. And then his fingers are on your bare skin, gently rubbing the ointment into your raw flesh, and you don't know if it's the pain or the pleasure, but it sends a shock of _something_ through your entire body.

You stay quiet, though, not wanting to do or say something wrong. You take slow breaths through your nose with your teeth grit, and try to focus on anything other than the feel of Cas' calloused fingers against your skin, of the way he strokes every so slightly, at the way he looks up at you from beneath his lashes when he gets a little too close to a nipple and you inhale sharply.

You stare back, unable to do anything else, unsure if you're having a _moment_ with Cas, or if _you're_ just having a moment where you're utterly insane.

Footsteps fall behind you, Cas looks away and finishes what he's doing, and Jody appears at the bottom of the stairs.

The moment, whatever it was or wasn't, is over.

Jody smile tiredly and heads straight for the kitchen, while Cas sits back.

"I have something for you," he says. He reaches into his jeans pocket then holds something out for you to take. You frown, but hold your hand out, palm up.

He drops an amulet into your waiting hand, and it's something you've never seen before in your life, but it makes your heart ache the same way seeing the Impala did. You look up at Cas.

"Sam gave this to you, many years ago. You lost it a while ago, and I know you don't know it now, but … it means a lot to you." Cas pauses, not looking at you. "It's about time you had it back."

You don't know. You just don't know. It feels like a gift from Cas, but it's something that was already yours, and it kind of feels like that, too. It feels like you've found something you never realised was lost until now, and it's enough to give you a headache. So you shove it in your pocket, where it burns, and look at Cas.

"Thanks, man."

When you wake up the next morning, you remember everything. You don't know why - there are multiple explanations for it; how long you've been in this universe, the time you spent with Bobby yesterday, or just the fact that you are who Cas says you are.

You're Dean Winchester. The same Dean Winchester that Cas pulled out of Hell, that Bobby practically raised, that grew up with the brother who allowed the devil to use his meat suit.

Images and words and sounds - mostly screams - flash through your mind. You're still in the chair you fell asleep in, but you have to move, you _need_ to move. You scramble to your feet, legs tangling in the blanket someone placed over you, and stagger out of the living room, out of the house.

You throw up, heavy and horribly, into the potted plant next to the porch steps. Your gut twists and clenches until it's empty, and you wish everything going through your head would just come out with the puke.

Wiping at your mouth, you stumble to your knees on the dirt in front of Bobby's, hand at your throat as you literally fight for breath. You gasp, nails of one hand clawing at your throat while the others dig into the ground, and your lungs burn at the lack of oxygen, you vision goes slightly black.

And then Cas is in front of you, on his knees, his hands holding you up by your shoulders.

"Dean. Dean, calm down."

His words are useless, but his voice isn't. It sends some kind of calm through you; not enough to ease your panic or breathing, but enough to relieve the desperation you feel at all the hurt, all the pain, all the death. At every memory and moment of your life that's pounding into your head and flesh, refusing to let you ignore it.

"Cas," you moan, unable to get much more than that out.

He grips you tight, raises one hand to make you look at him, and his skin against yours sends a shudder through you, an ability to let go, a surge of _it's okay_. You sag slightly, lean into the palm he's placed against your jaw, and breathe.

"That's it," he says softly. "Just take deep breaths, in and out. Nice and easy."

You nod and do as he says. You breathe and grab his shoulder, his wrist, needing something to hold on to. And you stare at him, right into his blue, _blue_ eyes, and you _know_. You know that it wasn't just sexual tension and a profound bond. You know it was a solid, meaningful connection. You know it was something intense and passionate. You know that it meant more to you than almost any other relationship in your life.

Your breath slows, evens out, but the feelings inside of you don't go away, and the amulet in your pocket continues to scald.

You pull back slightly, and when you drop your arms, he does the same. You look away, needing _less_ \- less memories, less pain, less Cas - but all you get is a junkyard-turned-maze, an old garage that now houses survivors of the apocalypse you were trying to avoid, and the spot where you saw Ellen and Jo die for the second time in your life.

All covered in the barely-there, totally-depressing light of the sun that's slowly rising behind dark cloud.

It even _looks_ depressing.

You stand, and there's so much to say - too much to say - so you say the first thing that comes to mind.

"Crowley? You're working with _Crowley_?"

"Dean -"

"Crowley, Cas! A demon - shit, not just a demon, but the _king of fucking hell_."

"Yes, Dean, I am aware of this."

"Yet you're still working with him. You're trusting him to come here, to be around everyone, to - to … you _trust_ him?"

Cas smiles. "You remember."

"Of course I do, and I'm also beginning to wonder just what the _fuck_ you were thinking after I died." You hold up a hand, to stop him before he starts. "Please don't tell me you made a deal with him."

"What? No, of course not."

Relief floods through you. "Well I guess that's something."

"Believe it or not, Crowley is actually working for us, and in a very dangerous environment."

"Uh-huh."

"Dean -"

"Gabriel."

Cas frowns. "I'm sorry?"

"He's alive. I thought he died, like for real, in Indiana."

"He faked it."

"Of course he did."

Cas says nothing, and you say nothing, and you kind of want to hit something. Oh, you remember all right. You remember everything, you know exactly who you are, and it doesn't help at all. If anything, it leaves you with more questions than before.

And it almost makes you wish you didn't remember, or that Cas had been wrong. There's no fucking doubt that you had been happier in your Sioux Falls with Ellen and Jo and Bobby, than you are here, in this Sioux Falls living your actual life.

"Dean?"

You look at Cas, trying to figure out how to feel. He didn't bring you back to life - you never properly died, really - but you're angry at him, and you know it's not fair. It's the same thing you were angry with him the day Jo and Ellen died - he should have left you alone, where you were, with Jo, happy.

But you know, even more so now, that it wouldn't have made a difference. Lucifer would have found you. You should be lucky Cas found you first.

"This is fucking crazy."

He smiles. "That's one way of putting it."

"I was happy there."

"I know," he says, and he looks genuinely repentant. "I'm sorry for bringing you here, for ruining that life for you, but … _this_ is your life. Your real life."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know."

"Plus Lucifer would have -"

"Found me anyway. I know."

You continue to stare, and Cas continues to stare, and now that you _know_ what this is, it just feels normal. It's you and it's Cas and it's what you do.

"So. Sexual tension and a profound bond, huh?"

"Dean -"

"Was that really it?" You don't know why you're asking. You do know that, four years ago, you never would have considered mentioning it, even if your life depended on it. Things are different now, though; even though you remember that life, lived that life, you're different. You lived another life - even if it was only four years and a lifetime of memories of that life - and it changed you.

"I've known since I walked into the _Roadhouse_ in that other reality that you are who you are," he says. "What else was I supposed to say when you asked? When I knew the truth, but didn't yet."

"The truth."

"It was the truth."

You nod. "Right. Got it." You go to turn away, but Cas grabs your arm.

"Please. Hear me out."

You don't turn back to him, but you do stop to consider it. If you're willing to outright ask the truth behind his words - which you clearly are these days - then you should be willing to hear him out. But some things never change, and you're not ready or willing to stand around and hear the rejection.

Bobby saves you.

"What are you two idjits doin' out there?" he calls from the front porch. "You seen that weather? It's gonna be pelting down in minutes."

He's right. The sun is up now, but you can't see it behind the dark clouds rolling above you. Perfectly timed thunder rumbles, and for the first time since your arrival, you get a sense of _apocalypse_.

Cas heads for the porch, but pauses and turns to you when you don't immediately follow.

"Dean?"

"I just … I need some time, Cas. Remembering everything is a lot - understanding how different everything is now is even more."

He nods. "Very well. Just try to stay dry."

You nod and wave him off without paying much mind to what he said, and then head for the maze. Even now that you know who you really are, you still want to head into this pile of cars and tires and old furniture and simply get lost.

Instead, you end up at the Impala, and it hits you right in the heart the moment you set your sights on her; this is home, this is real, this is where you are supposed to be. You miss Jo - both of them - but this is your life. What you had, when you couldn't see properly, but had Ellen and Jo, that was someone else's life - the life they never got the chance to live.

And that's really all it comes down to. You might have been ready to give up that day back at Stull Cemetery, but apparently your soul hadn't been. You're here, alive and well, and, according to Cas, you always have been. Maybe not _here_ , literally, but you were never really gone.

And it should be a gift. As much as you, or the other you, wanted to go that day - and you _really_ wanted to go - and as badly as you miss Jo and the short life you had with her as your best friend, you have a second chance here.

You just have to convince yourself that not putting it to waste is the right thing to do. You pull the amulet out of your pocket, and stare at it for a long moment before slipping it over your head, where it belongs. 

Hours pass by the time Sarah comes to find you. It started raining not long after you arrived at your car, but you were able to ignore it for a while. Once it really started - heavy sheets showering down and drenching you in seconds - you had no choice but to climb inside your baby to stay dry.

It's still wet, and Sarah's wearing the kind of yellow rain coat you thought only kids wore, but she manages to look both cute and elegant in it. Even when the wind constantly blows the hood away, leaving her hair dripping wet over her face.

"Aren't you a sight," you say when she falls into the passenger seat.

"Your brother used to think so."

That's right. He did.

"So," she continues, "how long are you gonna sit out here and sulk for?"

"I'm not sulking."

"He says sulkingly."

You snort. "Sulkingly isn't even a word."

"It should be."

"Okay, Webster."

She pulls her hair around in front of her, and rings it out on the floor at her feet. You say nothing. It's not like you don't care, but a wet floor is hardly the most important thing going on right now.

"You can't stay mad at Cas forever," she says.

"Who said I'm mad at Cas?"

"I did. I know Cas, and I know the look on his face is only one he gets when you're involved."

"I haven't been around for four years. How is that even possible?"

"Because he didn't know he was searching for _you_ all this time, but he was still jumping through realities and seeing a bunch of different versions of you. It wasn't always easy for him, you know?"

You grunt. It's the most acknowledgement you're willing to give.

"Plus," she continues, "I saw how angry you were the other day, after what happened to Jo and Ellen; I figure being yanked _back_ into this crappy universe must be worse than simply being brought to it. Your anger makes sense."

You don't understand how this girl manages to verbalise everything you feel, but you appreciate it. Sam used to do the same thing, but you hated it then - talking about feelings? No thanks. But you have changed. Living in that other reality, happily ensconced into something close to a family, changed you. Hopefully for the better.

You look at Sarah. "I shouldn't be mad at Cas."

"No, you shouldn't."

"Nothing that happened is his fault."

"No, it's not."

You have questions, and a lot of them, but you know Sarah isn't the one to ask. Even Bobby isn't the one to ask. Whatever happened, or is going to happen, needs to be told to you by Cas - profound bond or something else entirely, Cas needs to tell you what's going on.

And because the guy usually either has perfect or the worst timing, he appears outside next to the passenger window. Sarah jumps slightly, then quietly scolds herself for still doing that after all these years.

"Did you ever get used to it?" she asks. "Because I don't think I ever will."

You just smile, and watch as she gets out of the car. She and Cas both disappear for a second, but then Cas is back, climbing into the car.

"I offered her a ride back."

You shrug. "Well, if there's a better time than the end of the world to not be able to shit for a week, then I don't know what it is."

Cas frowns and ignores that. "I think we need to talk."

"There's a lot to talk about," you agree.

"Where would you like to begin?"

You think. Beginning at the beginning had worked well enough the other day, but you're not sure what the beginning is anymore. You died, your soul didn't, and now both you and your soul are back.

But something had to have happened in the four years you were gone, so you tell Cas to start from there.

"Very well." He fidgets for a long moment; plays with the fabric of his shirt, pulls at a loose thread on the knee of his jeans, pulls the visor down and puts it back up again. Finally, he clears his throat. "After you died, Bobby and I were left at Stull Cemetery, not sure what to do. Michael returned for a split second, then left again, and Lucifer had disappeared to … well, we don't know where."

"Is that when Michael closed Heaven up?"

"I believe so. It couldn't have happened instantly, hence why I had time to search for you, but it was not long after that I was unable to get back in."

"I'm sorry, man. That's bullshit, kicking you out of your own home."

He shrugs and nods at the same time. "It wasn't so bad. I wasn't the only one left here, either, so eventually myself and the other angels here were able to regroup, work something out."

"Oh yeah?"

"It's nothing, really. We just make ourselves available to any groups nearby who might need assistance. Mostly we heal when we can, but it's not often they even ask for our help."

You nod. You'd had a bunch of thoughts when you first re-met Cas about him doing real angel-type things, like healing.

"Before that, though, Bobby and I had to sort ourselves out. Bobby was fuelled with anger. He was ready to storm into Lucifer's lair - so to speak - and attempt to kill him with his bare hands, while I was …"

You look at him. "You were what, Cas?"

"I was very close to heading down the same path as the Castiel at Camp Chitaqua. I drank constantly, I stopped leaving my bedroom, I frequently contemplated using my own angel blade against myself."

"Christ, Cas." It's only a whisper that comes out, but even you can hear the emotion in your voice. _Sexual tension and a profound bond_ was nothing if Cas was ready to kill himself because you were gone. And you have no doubt that was the reason for it, too; Heaven might have closed up shop, he might have lost the majority of people he considered friends or family, but you're the reason he wasn't okay.

"Gabriel saved me," he tells you, smiling at the absurdity of it. "If he hadn't turned up when he did, I wouldn't be here today. He arrived and - as you would say - beat the shit out of me until I stopped being such a pussy."

"He didn't."

"He did. Of course I heal very quickly, but Gabriel is an archangel, he's a lot stronger than I am."

"Yeah."

"Not long after that, the virus began to spread, and people started turning up. First Sarah, then Rufus, then Jody. It got to the stage where we were no longer just a group of people sticking together during the apocalypse - we were hunters, fighters, rebels. People have come and gone in the last few years - some died on supply runs, or, what we call Croat genocide - but those who are here have been here for a while now."

It's a lot to take in. Not as much as usual, but your head is still in the same whirlwind blur Cas' stories get you in. You sit silently for a while, and the pounding of the rain is somewhat relaxing as you think through it all. But it doesn't last, because there's still one thing you don't know about, and you've been trying so hard to not even thinking about it, that saying it aloud hurts.

"Sam? What happened to him?"

Cas sighs, like he knew that question was coming. "I don't know. He wasn't in Heaven or Hell when I looked for you, nor was he in the Veil. For all I know, I either missed him in Heaven before I got shut off from it, or he could still be alive, with Lucifer in control of his body."

"Do you really think that's possible? After all these years?"

"No. But there's -" he pauses, furtively glances at you, then continues, "- there's a chance. I don't want you to get your hopes up, because even if he is in there, there's no guarantee he'll survive Lucifer being killed."

You stomach rolls. "Right. Because though I'm now a Dean with a Sam, it's still up to me to kill the devil."

"Dean, I think you know it's always been up to you to kill the devil."

"Yeah. Righteous man, right?"

Cas smiles. "Something like that."

The windows are foggy, the inside of the car is warm, but you feel nothing but cold and weary. Your whole life is a shit-load of a mess, and all you can do about it is go along with it. You can't fight it, and you can't fight destiny. You don't exactly believe in destiny, but you're here, at Bobby's, in the universe you grew up in, despite dying four years ago.

That has to mean something.

Cas shifts next to you, and you have an overwhelming urge to touch him. This isn't a new feeling - though the intensity of it is huge compared to both the last few weeks, and the years before the apocalypse - but it makes you nervous and sick all at once.

"Are you okay?" he asks, looking at you with soft eyes.

You huff out a laugh. "I don't know, man. Am I?"

"You will be."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because you're Dean Winchester, and there's nothing, in any universe, that has ever held my faith the way you do."

It's drizzling as you and Cas walk back toward the house. Your hands are shoved deep in your jeans pockets, your bare arms are covered in goose bumps, and every now and then, your shoulder brushes pleasingly against Cas'. You both slosh in puddles on the walk back, but it doesn't matter, and for those ten minutes, it's like neither of you have a care in the world.

But then you walk past an old house bus, and it all changes.

Crowley pops his head out of the door, looking pissed off and terrified. His face is red and furious, and when he spots you and Cas, he throws his hands up in the air.

"About bloody time, Cas. I've been waiting here for over an hour now."

"Why?" you ask.

"Excuse me?"

"Why were you waiting here? Why not just come find him?"

Cas steps inside the bus and encourages you to follow him. "This is where Crowley and I meet. Only Bobby, Gabriel, and Tessa know what it is he's doing when he's not here, so our meetings to discuss it have to be kept secret."

"More secret meetings. Awesome."

Cas gives you a look. "Dean, please."

"Well I'm sorry if I'm not totally okay that you're working with a demon!"

" _We're_ working with a demon, Dean. In fact, it was Bobby's idea originally."

"Oh."

"Yes, _oh_ ," Crowley says then turns to Cas. "Now, can we please get on with it?"

"Go ahead."

He frowns. "In front of him?"

"I don't see any point in keeping things from him now that he remembers his past."

"Very well." Crowley pauses and digs his hand into his coat pocket. A moment later, he four rings sit on the palm he holds out in front of him.

You blanch. "Holy fuck."

"Recognise these, then, do you?"

"How did you get them?"

He scoffs. "Where the hell do you think I got them? What, you thought I just spent my time wandering the earth while I wasn't here?"

"Crowley has been getting in Lucifer's good graces these last few years," Cas tells you, reaching out to grab the rings.

You look at Crowley. "You've been playing double agent?"

"Not exactly. Lucifer is smart and strong, but he doesn't trust easily. Even after three years of proving myself, he doesn't trust me enough to infiltrate this camp."

"But he does trust you."

"Yes he does." And you have to give it to Crowley that, instead of looking proud, or even like he's done a good job, he just looks somewhat disgusted.

"How did that happen?"

He sighs. "Lots and lots of torture."

You smirk, despite knowing the kind of torture he's talking about. "Is how you got Cas to trust you, too?"

"No. Castiel simply believed me when I gave my word."

Cas chuckles. "That, and we have Juliet locked up somewhere he'll never find her."

"If you hurt her -"

"Who's Juliet?" you ask.

"My dog, and I'll have you know she's the sweetest dog any of you will ever come across -"

"She's a Hell Hound, Crowley."

"She's still sweet!"

You're not sure you've ever been a part of a more peculiar conversation. You hold out a calming hand.

"Okay. How about getting back to the conversation at hand? We have the Four Horsemen Rings. Now what?"

Cas and Crowley share a glance, then both turn to look at you. Cas steps closer.

"Now, we fight," he says.


	5. Part Five

****

**PART FIVE**

The thing is, when Cas says _now we fight_ , what he really means is _now you work your ass off for the next three days to get yourself back into the kind of hunting shape you used to be in because you've become nothing but a slob_.

Not in those exact words, but they might as well have been. And, after it being pointed out that your refusal could only mean one thing, you agreed.

"Seriously?" you had asked. "You think I need to _train_?"

"Yes I do."

"Look, Cas," you put on your most placating voice. "I trained the other day, remember? And it was great - perfect, even! I hit every target, didn't hurt myself or anyone else once, and, oh yeah, I've been doing this for years!"

He frowns at your outburst. "Maybe. But you haven't done it in years. Shooting might have come back to you naturally, but that's not the kind of training I'm talking about."

"Then what are you talking about?"

"Physical training, Dean. The last thing we need when we go to hunt down Lucifer is you unable to keep up - or, worse yet, stopping us every half hour because you need to catch your breath."

"I am _not_ that out of shape."

"Prove it."

Snickers come from the group that seems to have gathered around you. You glare at them, remembering a time they would refer to you as the greatest hunter alive.

"C'mon, Dean," Cas continues. "If you're really not out of shape, then … hit me."

"Hit you?"

"Sure. Why not?"

You scoff. "Because the last time I hit you I broke my entire fucking hand."

"Slight exaggeration, but okay." He glances around the group. "Hit someone else, hit …"

"Me." Chuck puts his hand up.

"Really?" You narrow your eyes at him. "You want me to hit you?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Well, for starters, you're not a hunter."

He grins. "Exactly. Hell, I'm not even a prophet anymore - not since Michael went and closed Heaven to all angels. I'm just a regular human, who you should be more than able to beat in a fight."

You look at Cas, then at Bobby, and then back to Chuck. "Have you had some serious training that I don't know about?"

"No." He grins. "I just happen to have written years worth of books on you, and I know your defiance here is a way of getting out of it. If you really thought you were still as badass as you were four years ago, you would have up and hit someone by now."

You grit your teeth. He's right.

"Fine. let's do this."

The group rearranges themselves into more of a circle as you slip your jacket off, and you watch Cas step back with a smile on his face. So what if you haven't fought or hit anyone in years - you're still you, and you're still the best hunter these people know.

You move forward to face Chuck. He gestures for you to go whenever you're ready, but you wait a few moments, trying to psyche him out. And someone from behind you coughs out a _stalling_.

You turn to glare at them and Chuck punches you in the head. It's not a terribly good punch, but it still stings.

"Dude! Fuck! You just punched me in the head."

"I know!"

You lift a hand to where it throbs slightly. "The head, man, the _head_. You don't punch people in the head. You go for the face or the guts, but … _you don't punch people in the head_."

"Don't punch people in the head, got it," he says, all sarcasm. "You know what else you don't do? Turn your back on your opponent."

You stand straight, smirking slightly. "So you have had some training?"

"Only the basics. I'm still the worst fighter here."

"And probably the only one who would aim for the head."

"I wasn't really aiming. I - I don't have very good aim, so I tend to just wing it."

"Clearly."

He grins. "Wanna go again?"

"Yeah, just try and miss the head this time, huh?"

He nods and this time you don't piss around. You step close to him, try to hit him, one, two, three times, and he blocks you, one, two, three times.

You blink. You stare down at your closed fist. You glare at Chuck. "Only the basics?"

"I swear."

The snickers from the people watching have turned to outright chuckles. "Yeah, yeah, laugh your trained little asses off while you can. I'm _going_ to train, and once I'm done, I'll be able to kick all of your asses at once."

Bobby steps forward. "That's kind of what we're hoping for, boy."

You sigh. "I can't believe I can't even hit Chuck, the worst hunter in the world."

"Give yourself time to get back into the swings of things. Weapons are like bikes - you just don't forget them. Physically fighting, though? You gotta have your fitness levels up for that, have to have recent practice and experience."

You don't want to believe it's true, let alone admit it, but … "Yeah, I guess so."

Recent practice and experience had started with a three mile run around Bobby's property. Sarah had stood in front of you, dressed like a _runner_ , and forced you to change into shorts.

"What is this? You told me you were the least experienced here, and now you're taking me on a run?"

"When it comes to all things that go bump in the night, I am the least experienced person here," she had said, "but I'm also the fastest. You think I spend all my time gardening and growing food for you strapping men? You're silly. I went to college on a track scholarship, I'm the best person to have on a supply run, and you had better get used to that."

She hadn't been lying. No matter how hard you fought to keep up with her, it just wasn't possible. With just under less than a mile left, she had left you behind, calling out that she wanted to be in before dark, and that she would see you back at the house.

When you finally arrived at Bobby's, Cas had been sitting on the front porch waiting for you, bottle of water in hand. You stopped, hands resting on your knees as you panted heavily.

"Rough day?" he asked, handing you the water.

"Long."

"Yes, I thought as much." He stood to go inside, stopping to look back at you before he reached the door. "I've had the solar shower up for the last few hours. It's around the back of the house, and the water should still be hot for you."

It had been the best shower of you life.

And now, after three days of combat fighting, running, and catching up on any new monster-killing tips they had come across in the last four years, you're out of the house and on your way to kill Lucifer.

Well, eventually.

Cas, who's sitting right next to you in the old two-seater Dodge Ram, seems to think it will take a week, at least, to track down Lucifer. Though Crowley's been sucking up to the devil these last few years, it's on Lucifer's terms. Crowley gets summoned, then kicked out. He never knows where Lucifer is until he's standing right in front of him.

So far the excellent plan is to take it city by city. Jody and Bobby are in the truck in front of you, while Tessa and Gabriel have already gone ahead to scout out the town of Sioux Falls.

You're not sure what they're scouting out for, though, and that bugs you. You're used to not knowing what to expect - you're even used to not knowing what kind of monster you're about to come across - but you're not used to hunting during an apocalypse.

One thing you had expected was for everything to come naturally, especially after your weapons lesson with Tessa and Bobby, but it hasn't. You're on the road, multiple weapons attached to your body, ready to gank some goddamn sons of bitches, but …

You are nervous as hell.

That's partly why you had insisted to Cas that you drive. You haven't driven in this environment before, something Cas had been concerned about, but you don't care; you need something to focus on, something to keep your hands busy, something to keep you from freaking out.

You didn't tell Cas that, though.

"Dude. I've never seen you drive before. No way am I getting into a car with you behind the wheel."

He had seemed genuinely offended, but then rolled his eyes at you. "Some things never change."

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He's watching the road and surrounding bush like a hawk, and you might be uncertain about nearly everything in your life, but you know for sure that you're safe with Cas. Which only makes you feel marginally better because you wouldn't put it past the guy to put your life ahead of his own.

A crackling sound comes from Cas' ass, and you'd make a joke if you didn't know it was Tessa checking in.

"Cas, you there?"

He pulls the walkie out of his waistband and speaks into it. "I'm here. How's it looking out there?"

"Dead. Literally." Tessa sighs. "There are far too many bodies out here."

You look at Cas. " _Bodies_?"

"We're not the only humans still alive, Dean, we just happen to be some of the lucky few who have knowledge of how to deal with this." He clicks on the walkie again and speaks to Tessa. "We're not too far out of town; if there's really no one around, then I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tidy up a bit."

"Castiel -"

"See you soon, Tessa." He clicks off the walkie, and the conversation is left there. You glance at him as you continue to drive.

"Tidy up a bit?"

"Get rid of the bodies."

"Seriously?"

"It's the right thing to do."

"It sounds like a waste of time."

He gives an odd smirk. "And that's how I know you really are back, Dean."

You take offence to that, though you're not sure that you should. "I'm just saying - we're heading out to kill Lucifer, should we really be taking the time out to clean up a couple of bodies?"

"It will take us half an hour at the most, and it's the least we can do."

"The least we can do?"

He sighs. "I'm incredibly sick of having this conversation. All you hunters are the same - kill or save, there is no in between. Bobby and Rufus are the same. Even Garth, and he's got the biggest heart of any hunter I've ever met."

You speed through a stop sign without thinking about it - apocalypse, and all that. "Dude, I don't get what you're saying."

"We're the lucky ones in this war, Dean. Even after Sam said yes and you died, we were still the lucky ones because we knew what to do, how to survive. The people whose bodies are lying in the town square of Sioux Falls? They're all people we could have helped but didn't."

"Yeah, but, helping them could have put you all at risk! You can't just trust strangers, Cas. Plus there's the issue of food and water supplies - imagine how quickly that would have all run out had you had the whole town staying with you."

"Perhaps. But a bit of help now and then wouldn't have hurt. Myself and the other angels, we help groups out when we can, but there are still people going it alone, families in hiding, and they don't get any help at all."

"You feel guilty."

He glances down at his lap. "I'm an angel. First and foremost, it's my job to help."

He says nothing more, and you keep your trap shut because saying _anything_ after that seems really redundant. So you drive, you wish for some music, and you mull over what Cas said. But when you pull up behind Jody and Bobby in town, you don't look around, you don't take in the sight or stench of the bodies, you simply hand out instructions and get to cleaning things up.

There are twenty bodies piled atop each other in front of the library. Some have been eaten, others are relatively fresh, and one or two are drained of blood. All of them are gaunt and undernourished. It reminds you of the pictures you saw in history books about World War Two, and the piles of bodies of Jews stacked to the side. It's sad, and pretty disgusting, but you're stomach handles is like it used to, rather than how it did in the other universe where you couldn't cut yourself shaving without feeling queasy.

Jody and Tessa finish covering the bodies in the few sticks they found, and Bobby pours gasoline over them for a good old fashioned salt-and-burn when it happens.

Gabriel notices first. He goes completely still, sucks in a breath, and very quietly says _scrabble_.

You frown, but everyone else stands upright, guns at the ready. You follow their lead, and only seconds later you're surrounded by Croats. Or what you deem to be Croats. You haven't seen them since that trip to Oregon - or that little time-travelling stint Zachariah put you through, that you now realise pretty much came true in at least one alternate reality - but they look pretty much the same, if not slightly angrier.

There are six of you, but at fifteen twenty Croats. They circle you, growling like fucking animals, and you're both exhilarated and terrified. You start to take a quick count of the guns and knives you've got on your body, but a shot rings out and everything turns to chaos.

But as soon as it happen, as soon as you move to fight, it all comes back naturally, better than it had in training. You aim and shoot a couple of Croats in the head within the next few seconds, then run for one that's too close by. It's a women who's still wearing her nurses uniform, but instead of thinking that she was once a human being, you hit her with the butt of your shotgun and move on.

There's yelling going on behind you - Gabriel, Cas, Jody, Bobby, and Tessa all screaming warnings and curses to one another and the Croats trying to attack them - and you only realise this because Jody is screaming your name.

" _Dean_! To your left!"

You turn and duck the ugly face of some guy trying to take a bite of you. "Fuck!"

He only grunts in reply, and comes for you again, so you shove your shotgun at him, the muzzle going under his chin and straight up into his head. Where it stays; it's stuck, and you could take the time to pull it out, but there are still a few Croats lingering, and Gabriel looks like he could use a hand.

The guy is a dick, but at least he's on your side.

You pull your machete out of its holder, take out the guy causing him too much stress, and by the time the guy is on the ground, head a good ten feet away from him, Gabriel has taken care of the other three.

"I totally had them," he says, wiping blood from his knife onto his pants.

"Uh-huh." You turn to take in the scene, make sure everyone's okay, and you're glad too see each and every person you trust alive and well, while all Croats are down. Though, _well_ might be a slight exaggeration, but Cas is already healing them.

You gather everyone in one spot, ask to make certain they're all okay, then make a plan.

The bodies you had helped stack by the library never get burned, or anything close to the peace they deserve. You could tell this was something they did often if they had time, and it wouldn't surprise you if Cas, or even Jody, said some kind of prayer for the dead.

But this time, they're left to rot, and it makes you feel a little ill. You moved the bodies, dealt with it when both legs of that old woman fell off, but leaving them there makes you uneasy, and not the way it used to. Not in the sense that they might become evil spirits, but because perhaps Cas' way of thinking has rubbed off on you. They deserve better.

There's no time to think about that, though.

"Lucifer might have sent them," Gabriel says, pulling a packet of Milk Duds out of his bag. "We can't afford to stick around - hell, we can barely afford to stick together."

"We're not splitting up," Bobby says. "Not yet, and not at all if we can help it."

"I don't know if this is something we're going to be able to help, Bobby," says Jody. "I don't want to split up, either, especially now that we've got Dean back, but if Gabriel is right -"

" _If_ Gabriel is right, then we'll deal with it," Cas interrupts. "It's far too soon to be contemplating splitting up - we're not even out of Sioux Falls. We need to get a move on, and quickly. Where's our next destination?"

Tessa sighs. "Our next agreed meeting point is Hartford, but I think the sooner we get out of state, the better."

"So straight on to Nebraska?"

"It's the closest."

"Which is why we should avoid it," you says. "It's the most obvious place to run."

"He's right," Tessa says. "How about we go where we know we have a shot at finding him, and head straight for Kansas?"

"You think he's in Kansas?"

"The birth place of his rightful vessel? It's where he'll be at his most powerful."

You nod. "Awesome."

Cas turns to Gabriel. "I want you to go with Bobby and Jody. If anything does happen, you'll be there to heal them."

Gabriel salutes Cas and heads over to Bobby's old truck. "Let's go then, ladies," he says. "Time ain't on our side today."

Bobby glares at Cas. "Thanks. A lot."

Cas just smiles and turns to Tessa. "You okay to go ahead alone?"

"I'm sure I've got my big-girl panties on my somewhere, Castiel."

She leaves before Cas can answer. The revving of Bobby's truck gets you and Cas moving, and you're pulling out behind Jody, Bobby, and Gabriel in just a few minutes.

You don't feel nervous anymore. You haven't felt nervous since the second you stepped out of this truck and started telling people what to do. That felt right and natural, and doing it made you feel like, well, _you_.

But there's blood on your jeans. It's cool and seeping, and though it doesn't make you feel sick, it does make you think. You're back to this life, the one of saving people and hunting things, only this time there is no saving people. The people are already dead.

If you think about it really hard - and you sure as hell have the time to do it with the drive to Kansas and Cas too busy keeping an eye out to talk - you kind of wish that, if you had to be brought back from the dead, that it was to something better. A better, nicer, happier world, where Sam was safe, Cas was happy, and Bobby was a little more relaxed.

A world where, maybe hunting still existed, but it wasn't your life. Or, just a world where the reason you had been brought back was because people missed you, wanted you around, not so you could kill the devil.

But then you look at Cas. Nothing about profound bonds or sexual tension has been mentioned since the day you remembered everything, but you want them both to be mentioned. You want Cas to bring it up, to show interest, to _assure_ you it's more than that on his side, too. You're sure that it is. You remember how he was before Stull Cemetery. There's no way that was platonic.

And that kind of makes it okay. The killing and hunting and lack of saving people. If Cas is with you, if maybe the two of you can sort through this profound bond, then maybe being back in the life of hunting isn't the worst thing.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Pay attention to the road."

You look in front of you and realise you're on the wrong side of the road. You quickly pull at the steering wheel, and curse.

"One of the perks of the end of the world," Cas says, "is that you can take a joyride without hurting anyone. Or being pulled up by a cop. Of course, if you're driving with Jody and you break a law then she'll try and stick you with one of the chores you really don't want."

"Really?" You recognise that Cas is trying to distract you, and though you're not entirely sure what from, you wholeheartedly appreciate it.

"Yes. Once, after I first learned to drive, Gabriel convinced me to let him drive us home from a supply run. Jody was in the back seat with me, while Sarah was up front with Gabriel." He glances at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "He pulled into a parking lot and began doing donuts."

"No way."

"Way. And, for breaking the law like that, Jody made him peel all the potatoes for the next month. She's a great hunter, and a wonderful cook, but, despite the apocalypse, she's still very intent on sticking to the road rules."

You chuckle. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

Cas nods, still smiling, but then his smile falls. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"Are you okay?"

You stare straight ahead. It's a loaded question. Too loaded. You have no idea how to answer, because not only are you still reeling from remembering your actual life, you're still dealing with the fact that the life you were living wasn't your own, Ellen and Jo's death, Sam and whatever's happened to him, the fight and how uncomfortably natural it all felt, and whatever's going on between you and Cas.

So you sigh. "I don't know, Cas. I really don't."

The house is silent. Both Cas and Gabriel said it was empty, but you keep your gun at the ready anyway, just in case. You move from room to room, seeing nothing but desolate bedrooms, bathrooms, and living rooms, housing only the occasional mouse, the odd piece of furniture, and a whole heap of trash.

Not the gross trash, though, and you figure you can thank whoever squatted here before you for taking their leftovers with them.

After a quick walk around, the five of you - sans Tessa who's checking out the rest of the town - meet in the foyer to discuss the possibility of staying.

"I found a couple of old mattresses," Jody says. "No pillows, but plenty of bedding."

Bobby nods and looks at Cas. "No strange activity out there?"

"Nothing. I can't sense anything out of the ordinary, and even if something does turn up, that's what we've got wards for."

Bobby then looks at you. "What do you think?"

You think you should be used to being asked that question, to having an opinion that matters, but you're not. Mixing your two different lives together - or even trying to exist in one having just spent years in another - is difficult. But that doesn't change the fact that your opinion _does_ count. Just like it used to.

You sigh. "I think the sooner we bunk down for the night the safer we'll be. Put up as many wards as we can, put devil's traps at every entrance, and keep two sentries on at all times. If everything seems okay in a couple of hours, we'll see what kind of food we can score from around the neighbourhood, but for now, get some rest.

Bobby nods. "You heard the man. Let's get to it."

You take first sentry with Gabriel. Guy doesn't need to sleep, anyway - which kind of makes you want to put him on fulltime sentry, but you're not that mean - so it's not like he needs any rest after a day of travelling and fighting.

You frown. Cas headed upstairs and to bed the moment you named yourself and Gabriel as sentry. He has a room at Bobby's that he goes to every night, and you've definitely caught him napping once or twice in the living room at Bobby's.

You head back to the front of the house after your last check before Tessa and Jody take over, and ask Gabriel how it all seems.

"Quiet," he says. "And not the too quiet kind of quiet. I think we're good here."

It's dark out, and with no power lighting the streetlamps, it's hard to see the house across the street let alone any down the road. "For now."

"Perhaps. But with the sigils and devil's traps, no one can get in."

"Except Lucifer."

He grins and unwraps a Snickers. "Well, there's that."

You ignore his too-loud eating. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Forty-two."

"Huh?"

"The answer to life, the universe, and everything."

You roll your eyes. "What's with the scrabble?"

"The what?"

"When you noticed Croats were around today, you said scrabble."

He chuckles. "Yeah, that's our warning system. Quicker than saying _hey, guys, we're surrounded by some kind of monster_ , you know?"

"Yeah, but why scrabble?"

"Because I lost a bet."

"Oh yeah?" You grin. "What did you want it to be?"

He puts on a voice and says, "Baby Ruth."

"Holy crap, did you just quote _The Goonies_?"

He grins. "C'mon. If one angel was going to quote a classic eighties movie, it had to be me, right?"

You chuckle, suddenly not hating the guy so much. Okay, so maybe you haven't hated him for a week or so now, but he was still a total douche. If he can quote _The Goonies_ , though, then he might be okay. You ask something else before you can talk yourself out of it.

"Why does Cas sleep? You don't, Tessa doesn't, and he never used to."

"Until he started searching for you - or the you that you thought you were. As I'm sure you now realise, it's pretty exhausting travelling from universe to universe. It's taken its toll on Cas, and now he needs to sleep most nights."

"That must suck for him."

"To begin with, yeah. Now, well he won't admit it, but he quite likes his beauty sleep."

"Right."

"And I bet you do, too, don't ya, Dean-o?"

You look at him. "I like my beauty sleep?"

"You like Castiel getting his beauty sleep. Don't think I haven't seen the way you look at him - even before you came back to life. You've been into him for years."

Your heart thuds, and you make sure there's no one else around to hear this conversation before replying. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire. _Please_. You and Cas are so obvious, it's actually rather sickening."

"Gee, thanks."

Gabriel shrugs and offers you some M&Ms from his pocket. "All I'm saying is that the two of you have had something since the second he grabbed a hold of you in hell. It might not have been mutual right away - in fact, neither of you probably realised it right away - but it's always been there."

"A profound bond," you mutter without thinking, and Gabriel nods.

"That sounds about right. He saved your soul, which means the two of you are connected, no matter what. The fact that you're both totally hot for each other probably doesn't hurt that connection."

You ignore his last comment and focus on the first. "So, we'd have this _connection_ even if we weren't friends?"

"You'd have _a_ connection if you weren't friends - nothing can change the fact that Cas touched your soul. He rebuilt you. He saved you. The fact that the two of you built a friendship and relationship around that just increases the bond by, like, a gazillion."

You would never admit it to another living soul, but you like that. You like that this bond you have with Cas isn't just because he saved you. You know you shouldn't believe much - if anything - of what Gabriel tells you, but you believe this. You believe your relationship with Cas is built on the bond the two of you share, and your bond with Cas is built on your relationship with him.

You haven't spoken to him about it - you're not even sure you ever will - but it settles you to know what you have isn't forced, made by the uncontrollable fact that Cas touched your soul. It's you and it's Cas and it' who you are with each other.

Thankfully you're saved from having to reply to Gabriel by footsteps coming down the stairs. You and Gabriel both put your guns to the ready, but turn to find Jody walking towards you.

"You should be sleeping," you tell her, lowering your gun.

"Nightmares." Is her only explanation.

Well you get that. "You get them often?"

"Only when we're not at home," she says, and you like that by _home_ she means Bobby's. "You might as well head up to bed, Dean. I'm not going to get anymore sleep, and there's no reason for the both of us to be up."

You don't want to accept her offer - you even feel like you shouldn't because, even though you're only recently you again, this is your mission - but you know she has a point. Plus, the better rested you are tomorrow, the better. You don't know what's changed exactly, but you don't only feel like this is your mission, you also feel like this is your fight, your plan, _your_ team.

"Thanks, Jody." You give her a quick kiss on the cheek then head upstairs. You hear Gabriel offer Jody some M&Ms on your way, and his slightly disappointed _oh_ when she accepts.

Your room is right down the end of the hallway, past everyone else's. As you head down the hall you hear Bobby snoring from his room, see Tessa doing some kind of meditation in her room, and get nothing but a closed door from Cas' room. You pause outside it, not really sure what you're doing or thinking, then continue on to your own room.

But once you're in your own room, all you do is pace. You're frustrated, about everything. You don't know where Lucifer is, you don't know if the people around you are safe, you don't know what's up with you and Cas. You miss Jo and Ellen, you miss Sam, and damn it, you miss Sarah. You're just as worried about her and everyone else you left back at Bobby's as you are the people in this house with you.

But there's nothing you can do about that. There's not really anything you can do about any of it; Lucifer's whereabouts will be a mystery until you're standing in front of him, the people in this house with you are as safe as they could possibly be out in the middle of the apocalypse, and Cas …

Cas is something you can do something about. There's too much going on in your mind, and if you can get rid of one thing, resolve one issue, then you'll fucking do it, old you be damned.

You're in your room a grand total of three minutes before you storm out and towards Cas' room. You don't think, you just knock. It doesn't take long for Cas to open the door.

"Dean." He makes himself sound surprised, but you can see he's not. "It's not my turn to keep guard yet, is it?"

"What - no. No, I just - can I come in?"

"Oh. Of course." He opens the door wider, and once you've stepped into his room, leaves it wide open. "Is there something wrong?"

"No. Well, not exactly. It's just …" You pause, trying to find words you didn't know you were looking for. Finally, you just go with your gut, and it's another odd moment of trying to find a balance between the you you've always been, and the you that you became in the other universe. The you who didn't do feelings, and the you who told Jo almost everything.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, sorry." You begin to pace, only stopping to look at Cas when you finally figure out what you want to say. "We could have died today, Cas."

"Well, yes, I suppose we could have."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

He frowns. "Does it bother you?"

"Yes! I mean, I know it shouldn't, I know it never used to, but I just spent the last four years of my life living a normal apple-pie life. It might never have originally been my life, but I still lived it."

"No one's saying you didn't."

"Yeah, but it makes everything different now! I got lucky when I ended up in that other universe, Cas, and now that I'm back I - I realise that I can't live the way I used to."

He shakes his head. "I'm not sure I understand what you're saying, Dean."

You feel like the roles have reversed. You feel like, had this conversation happened four years ago, Cas would be the one knocking on your door, and you would be the one denying everything. So you go easy on him, because you get it - fear of rejection, fear of having something to call your own, fear of losing that something.

And that's only the beginning; you have a whole list of fears, some you're not ever willing to admit aloud, but, for now, this needs to be said.

"We have a profound bond."

He takes a step back. "Yes we do."

"Well don't you think we should do something about that?"

"Like what?" he asks, and you try to ignore his intentional ignorance.

"Like sort it out, make it mean something." You step closer. "Cas, I died. I died, and was gone for four years. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

His gaze snaps to yours, and you're not sure you've ever seen him angrier. "Of course it does. It means everything to me."

"Yeah? Because I've been back for a while now, and you haven't done a damn thing about anything!"

"Dean -"

"We could die, Cas. Again. And, yeah, we both have a habit of being brought back, but that's not going to last forever. One day one of us will die for good, and then it will be too late."

"Too late for what?" he whispers.

"For this to be real. For the both of us to stop tip-toeing around each other like we have since that night in the barn."

Your words, your honesty, surprises you. You surprise yourself. You're don't know the person you are anymore, and you both like it and hate it. You hate not knowing what to do, what to think, what to say, but you kind of like this newfound ability to speak honestly, to show emotion, to stop beating around the bush with Cas.

You can't help but think that, had you had this conversation with him in the days before Stull Cemetery, things might have been different. You wouldn't change the last four years for anything, but those days leading up to it? The possibility of having spent them with Cas is enough to make you push through.

"Cas, I'm back. I'm the Dean you knew all those years ago, the Dean you trusted and the Dean you sided with. You betrayed and killed your family, and you did it for me. Not the apocalypse, not Sam, _me_."

Cas, for all his angel mojo, looks terrified. "Dean, this isn't really the time -"

"I can't think of a better time."

"We going to try and find Lucifer tomorrow -"

"Which is why this needs to be done now. Hell, Cas, it should have been done years ago - the night before we took on Raphael was probably perfect timing - but if now's the only real chance I have then I'm taking it."

"Dean -"

You get right up in his personal space. "I'm not willing to go into battle, to put my life on the line, until you tell me what your version of our _profound bond_ is."

He stares at you, shocked, but he says nothing. He's silent and you're silent and you stare at each other, the air in the room getting thick and warm. A trickle of sweat rolls down your back, despite the cool weather and lack of heating, and you shuffle a little closer to Cas.

He doesn't move away, and that fear of rejection disperses.

"I'm not that same Dean you brought back here, Cas. I know everything, I remember everything. You can't pretend with me anymore."

He sucks in a breath. "No, I don't suppose I can."

You wait for him to continue, but instead he waits a few moments, then looks away and steps back. That rejection flares right back up again, and you're just about to let it show through anger, when there's a knock at the door.

"Hate to interrupt you two lovebirds," Gabriel says, "but I think it's about time we went over the plan with Dean."

Of course. Because despite knowing and remembering everything, you have still yet to be told the plan, to be told exactly how you're going to kill Lucifer. Lucifer who's in Sam's body.

Cas stands up straight. "Yes, you're right. We should really get onto that."

Gabriel nods. "Let's go. I've got all the papers on the table downstairs."

You're torn between wanting to know the plan and wanting to get this sorted with Cas, but your mind is made up for you when Cas follows Gabriel out of the room without another word, not even a glance in your direction.

You stand alone in Cas' room for a few moments, taking in the rumpled bedding on the lumpy mattress, the small bag of belongings Cas brought along with him, and the water bottle on the floor. Livid, but knowing this really isn't the time to let loose on the guy, you take a few quick steps and kick over his water bottle. The lid isn't on, water seeps into the wooden floor towards the mattress, and you quickly step back.

"Oops." But you only feel slightly guilty.

Downstairs is quiet, only the rustling of papers making any sound as Gabriel gets himself sorted. Neither Tessa or Jody are around, so you figure they're doing the rounds, and sit down at the table. As far away from Cas as the seats will allow you.

"Let's hear it, then. What's this great plan you've got?"

Cas and Gabriel share a glance, and Gabriel speaks up. "You should tell him; he likes you more."

Cas glares, but turns to you. "As I'm sure you remember, Sam was Lucifer's necessary vessel due to his being a descendent of Cain and Abel."

"Right. Same reason I was Michael's true vessel."

"Exactly. Only Michael isn't around to help us anymore."

"Douche."

"Indeed. And being that only an Archangel can kill an Archangel, it puts us in a difficult position."

"Yeah, I guess …" You look at Gabriel. "You're an Archangel."

"Yes I am."

"So why don't you kill Lucifer?"

Gabriel sighs. "Yeah, Cas, why don't I kill Lucifer?"

Cas ignores him. "Well, Dean, that's actually the plan. Well, part of it."

"C'mon, Cas, just spit it out already, would ya?"

Cas throws another glare at Gabriel, then turns in his seat to face you. "Dean, Gabriel is the only Archangel left on Earth, and only one of our best chances at killing Lucifer. But you - you're a Winchester, you're of Cain and Abel's bloodlines, you have the same DNA running through your body as Sam has running through his, which makes you our other best chance."

"You want me and Gabriel to work together? How's that going to help anything?"

"I want you to let Gabriel use you as a vessel."

Cas stares at you, guilt shining through the determination in his eyes, and you don't know what to say or think or do. You pull your gaze away from him to look at Gabriel.

"I know this sucks," he says, "but it's the only chance we've got."

"I'm not your true vessel." Your voice comes out choked and angry.

"No, but you're a Winchester, which might very well be better in this situation. Alone, I'm not strong enough to defeat Lucifer, but inside of you, I just might be."

"Might be?"

"There's no guarantee."

"But there's also no other way," Cas says.

You shake your head and stare at Gabriel, completely ignoring Cas. It's one thing to somewhat reject you upstairs, but this is betrayal on a whole other level.

"This what I spent a whole fucking year fighting," you say. "This is partially why Sam said yes, this is why Cas beat me up in some dingy ally, and why I got locked up in Bobby's panic room!"

Gabriel nods. "Yeah, I know."

"And now you just want me to say yes? Why the fuck would I say yes?"

"Because, like Cas said, it's our only chance. We know you, Dean - Cas especially knows you - and we both know you don't want to do this, but we also know that, even more than not wanting to do this, you want to kill Lucifer."

You lick your dry lips. "What will happen to Sam?"

Gabriel looks away, leaving Cas to answer. "We don't know."

"Awesome." They both look down, and if you didn't know better, you'd say they look ashamed. You can admit that Cas, maybe, is genuinely sorry, but you doubt Gabriel gives one damn about Sam. You finally meet Cas' gaze. "This is what your we're talking about that day Lucifer turned up? This is why you thought I'd be even more willing to help out once I remembered? Because I know it's the right thing to do?"

Cas sighs. "Yes. Dean, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, and I'm sorry that Lucifer is occupying your brother's body, but this really is our only plan."

"What about the rings? Crowley scored the Four Horsemen rings - are you expecting me to throw all three of us into the cage? Because I'm actually not quite as willing to do that as Sam was. Especially after being yanked here from what was a perfectly good life!"

You stand before they can reply, and shove your chair back.

"You know what? I don't even care. Fuck you both." You head upstairs without another word.

You don't talk to Gabriel or Cas at all the next day, and it's harder than you thought it would be. You could probably go quite some time without speaking to Gabriel and be perfectly okay with it, but you miss Cas by mid-morning. You miss talking to him, you miss awkwardly staring at him, you miss being near him.

You hate the awkward moment that morning when he handed you your coffee, you hate the way Bobby looked between the two of you as though he knew something was up, and you hate the way Gabriel keeps sucking up to you, as though you'll agree if you don't think he's as much of a douche as he is.

But whatever. You'll deal with that later. For the moment, you need to figure out exactly what's going on.

You're in the car with Tessa, because this time you instructed Cas to go ahead and check everything out, but the car has just broken down despite the tune up you gave it the day before leaving Bobby's.

"What is it?" Tessa asks.

"I dunno. Keep an eye out while I check the engine."

By the time you've popped the hood, Tessa has disappeared and reappeared on the roof of the truck, standing tall and dutiful as she scans the surrounding bush. You look away and check the engine.

"Bobby and Jody are nearly here," she says.

"Wave at them to go ahead and see how the next mile or two looks."

She doesn't reply, but you know she's listening. That's the good thing about Tessa; she stands her ground, has her own very strong opinions, but she can follow proper instructions like no one else.

But then Bobby's truck chokes to a stop beside yours and you frown, a prickling sensation making its way down your back. You don't move an inch.

"Tessa?"

"I can't see anyone," she says, voice so calm it would be impossible to hear the tension in it had you not spent the last few weeks with her.

Bobby clears his throat, and you look up to see his window rolled down. "Car break down?" he asks, but there's tension on his face that lets you know he's telling you the same thing he's asking you. His truck broke down, right next to yours, in the middle of nowhere.

You stand up slowly. "Dead battery, I think," you say, lying through your teeth.

"Dead something," Bobby mutters.

You open your mouth to reply, but Cas and Gabriel appear next to you, and both of them have their weapons at the ready.

"Run!" Cas says. "They're coming from the left. Go!"

You take the split second it takes to make sure Bobby and Jody are out and on their way, glance up at Tessa to already find her gone, and then you run. You go right, as instructed by Cas, following Bobby and Jody, catching glimpses of Gabriel appearing and disappearing every few minutes.

It's distracting, his popping in and out of your vision, until Jody trips on a log and falls heavily. Gabriel materialises next to her, grabs her arm, and mojos her half a mile into the forest. He's doing it to help. He could have just left, taken off and not worried about the lowly humans who _need_ , but he's helping.

You continue to run and run, thankful for those three days of Sarah endlessly egging you on with _Run, Forrest, Run_ s. Someone appears next to you for a split second, and you automatically expect Gabriel, but it's definitely not Gabriel, and the second that long, dark hair, hits your vision, you pull out Ruby's knife and stop running.

"Meg."

"Dean." She's so leering, so mocking, and for a second you want to smirk and tell her you're not the innocent guy she tried to trick at the bar that night, but for some reason, you keep it to yourself. For some reason, Lucifer not finding out who you really are seems like a good idea.

"Long time, no see," you tell her. "And, I hate to say it, but you've gotten uglier."

"Liar."

"You're right; I love saying it."

She narrows her eyes. "No Clarence here to protect you this time, huh?"

You stiffen. You don't know why, exactly, but her calling Cas Clarence really gets to you. You hide it well, though.

"Yeah, he's probably out there somewhere, smiting all those dipshits you've got following you."

"Haven't heard any screaming yet."

"I'm sure it won't be far off."

"Indeed," she agrees, "but I don't care about those _dipshits_ , Dean, I care about you."

"Really? Because last time you saw me you tried to kill me."

"Who says I'm not here to kill you this time?"

"Me. And probably Lucifer. My guess is he wants me all to himself. Like a Harry Potter/You-Know-Who kind of deal."

She frowns. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

You cough. "Never mind. What do you want?"

"You, obviously. Just because I can't kill you doesn't mean I'm useless. I was specifically sent to bring you in."

"In to Daddy, right?"

"That's right." She looks so proud. You want to punch it off her.

You smile. "You know I can't let that happen."

"Sure you can! C'mon, Dean - you and I both know you're not going to be able to kill him. There's simply no chance of it happening."

"Yeah, probably not," you agree, "but that doesn't mean I'm going to go down easy. Or without a fight."

Despite your reaction to Cas and Gabriel's news to you being another angel's vessel, this is true. You'll fight to the very end, even if it is Sam's body giving you the end all over again. You've done it once, and you can and will do it again.

She sighs dramatically. "Well, it's going to be one hell of a fight, Dean."

Seven other demons come out from behind trees before you get the chance to reply. You sigh just as theatrically as Meg had.

"Damn. This is my favourite shirt. When Cas told me I might have to kill some demons, I was really hoping I wouldn't be wearing this shirt at the time."

She glares at you, but it's far too intense to just be anger. So you slouch slightly, remind yourself to be a little less confident in front of Lucifer's trusted ones. It seems to work, because she shakes her hair out of her face, waves a hand in your general direction, and mutters _get him_.

Her dipshit followers attempt to do exactly that, and it's hard not to just take them out straight away. You fight to keep your true identity to yourself, though. Things might just work out better if it comes as a surprise to Lucifer, and that surprise has to come at the right time.

You take your time with them, letting them almost get you on more than one occasion, but you've killed three by the time you're breathing gets a little rough. Meg curses at them, and you grin at her while stabbing another one in the stomach.

"What? You think I've been sitting on my ass these last two weeks?"

She glares. "A girl can hope, but clearly you've been trained by the best."

"Yes, I have."

"Although …" She trails off with a smirk. "The Dean Winchester from this universe was the best, and you'll never be him, so …"

You turn and plunge Ruby's knife into a blonde demon's shoulder, and laugh. "Guess I'll just have to make do, then."

This isn't like the day before, when the demons and Croats surrounded you and everyone else outside the library of Sioux Falls. Everything about this is different, better, cooler. It's killing, all over again, but it feels right and natural, and even the hate-filled banter with Meg feels good.

It's nice to let off some of the steam you didn't realise you were carrying.

It doesn't take you long - though longer than it once did, and you're a little ashamed to say that's not entirely due to you faking who you are - and then it's just you and Meg and a scattering of dead bodies.

Your breathing is ragged as you look around, and Meg slow-claps for you, with an outstanding ability to transfer sarcasm through nothing but claps. You cock an eyebrow at her.

"I'm impressed," she says. "Really."

"Gee. Thanks."

She shrugs. "They were all fairly new to this _demon_ thing, but not as new as you are to this hunting thing. Really. You did a great job."

"Let me guess, now you're gonna bring out the big boys."

"Oh, Dean. You should know better than that. I am the big boys."

Her knife is huge, and it gives her an unfair advantage. It doesn't matter what size your knife is, the only one that will work against her is the tiny-in-comparison one in your hand. You shrug it off, though, and give her the come-and-get-it look.

She's one hell of a fighter, and you don't know how it managed to slip your mind that this is the same girl who tricked Sam, who tried to kill Dad. This girl has been out to get you since you and Sam first started hunting together again, and that alone causes a surge of hate to flow through you.

"I went on a trip with Cas about a week ago," you grunt at her, between ducking and evading her hits. "He showed me a bunch of other universes."

"Must have been so romantic," she exclaims. "Please, tell me more."

You heave out a growl of protestation as she gets her aim and slices deeply into your upper arm. It hurts like a bitch, and it's your dominant arm, but you use the pain to fuel you.

"Yeah, he showed me the good and the bad. But, I gotta say -" you duck quickly, and take the opportunity to tackle her to the ground, "- the bad wasn't so bad once I saw another me torturing the hell out of you."

"I hope for your sake that you're kidding," she grits out, struggling beneath you, and damn she's tough.

"Nope!" You pin her under you, knees at her thighs and hands on her arms. "It was really fucking amazing. Holy water, rusted knife, iron heretic's fork - oomph!"

She head butts hard enough to make spots appear, and she switches positions quicker than you think even Tessa could do. You stare up at her, blinking wildly, wondering what the fuck just happened.

"That was always the real Dean's problem, too," she says, spitting droplets of blood onto your face as she speaks. "He was too fucking confident for his own damn good. And he liked to talk far too much."

"Uh-huh? And what's your real problem?"

"I don't have one. I'm perfect."

"A perfect bitch."

She grins. "Excellent comeback. Really magnificent."

Your hands are empty, Ruby's knife having been knocked out of your hands and landed somewhere near the second demon you killed. You stare up at Meg, and silently pray for Cas. You hate yourself for it, because you're the old you again and you shouldn't need help, but you're not sure there's any other way of getting out of this.

Meg leans down, her bloodied mouth far too close for your liking, and you don't hide the disgust on your face.

"I'm going to enjoy this," she says.

You don't see it, but you _feel_ it, so you grin. "Not as much as I am."

Her frown only lasts a split second, before Cas' hand is on the back of her head, gripping her hair and pulling her off you. She's dead before she hit's the ground.

Darkness comes quickly.

"How long were we all separated for?" you ask Cas.

"Hours. Gabriel got Jody somewhere safe pretty quickly after they took out a bunch of Croats, Tessa spent at least two hours killing demons who had ganged up against her, and I only managed to find Bobby about half an hour before I found you."

"Where are they now?"

"Safe."

"Cas."

He turns to look at you. You're a tiny apartment, in the middle of an apartment complex, no windows or fresh air to calm your worry.

"No one will be able to see the fire," Cas had said, and though he had a point, you don't like being stuck.

"They're safe," he assures you. "Tessa and I decided it was time to split up. They'll have a harder time finding us if we're not together than if we stay in one big group."

"And also an easier time killing us," you say, and Cas glares at you. "Fine, sorry, I'm just concerned about their safety."

"I know, but they will be fine. Jody is with Gabriel, and Tessa is with Bobby. Everyone is safe."

"So everyone has their own personal angelic protection, huh?"

He smiles. "I suppose you could put it that way."

"And they'll be safe?"

"They're all warded, they're as safe as they can be. Thinking about it, it's not that surprising that Meg managed to find us today. There's only one road we could have taken out of town today, and if they knew we were on our way, then of course they were waiting for us."

You shrug. "Well, at least one good thing came out of that?"

"Oh?"

"They wouldn't have bothered coming after us if we weren't on the right track."

Cas stands. "This is true. Lucifer must be in Lawrence, just like we originally thought - Dean, you know what this means, don't you?"

"That Lucifer is in Lawrence, just like we originally thought?"

He ignores your intelligent reply. "It means that, whatever is going to happen, is going to happen at Stull Cemetery."

You cringe. You remember that place far too well, and it's really not something you enjoy remembering. In fact, of all the memories you've remembered, that's one of the few you've yet to properly think about.

"Does it have to?"

"I think so. I think it's the only place to end it."

You stare into the slowly-dying fire. The small apartment is warm enough, and you've already eaten the food Cas, Gabriel, and Tessa managed to score from the cars, so you're pretty happy to let it go out. If anything, having a fire going in here just makes the place feel even more like a trap.

"Well, that sucks."

"Yes. I suppose it does."

A long silence follows. Long enough that you spread out on your sleeping bag and close your eyes. Cas, insisting that he doesn't need any sleep tonight, is taking first sentry duty, but you're not sure there's any point to it in the middle of the complex where he can't see out. Angel mojo, you figure.

You're eyes are closed, your breathing even, and you're just hitting that space of in-between, that space where you're aware of what's going on around you, but you're almost too far away to think anything of it.

It's words, thick and heavy in your sleepy state, but they feel important. Your eyes snap open, and you sit up a little.

"What? What's going on?"

Cas stares at you. "You nearly died today."

You let out a relieved sigh. You had thought demons or Croats or something else monstrous. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"I don't want you to die."

It takes you too many seconds, but then your heart thuds uncomfortably at where this might be going. You play it cool. "I don't really want to die, either, Cas. Especially since I don't have a Jo and Ellen in another world to be with anymore."

He looks down. "Is that why you don't want to die? Because you know you won't be going back to them?"

"Cas - no. I don't want to die because … I just don't want to die. I'm not ready for that, and both my heart and soul know it this time." You try to joke it out, but your voice is way too serious.

"Sometimes I get scared." He shuffles closer on his knees in front of you. "If you were to die again, I wouldn't be able to handle it -"

"You'd be fine."

"I wouldn't be like that other Castiel we saw. I wouldn't be anything. I would -"

"Cas. Stop." Your voice is firm as you sit up properly. "Whatever it is you think you're saying, stop it."

"I'm not _saying_ anything, I'm simply telling you what our profound bond means to me."

"Oh … okay."

"It means I don't want to live without you, Dean. As a friend, an ally, a lover - I'll take everything and anything I can get, while I can get it."

"Cas."

He kisses you and it's so soft and sweet and sinful that you want to do it forever. Your mind goes hazy with desire, but your entire body stills because you can't believe this is happening, because you're not positive it is happening, because there's a good chance your heart has stopped.

He goes to pull away at your lack of response, but you whimper - yes, you fucking _whimper_ and so what? - at the loss. Something inside of you snaps and you want, you need, you take - you grab a fistful of his hair, tug him close, and decide then and there to never let him go again, never let him out of your sight for longer than necessary.

He grunts at the movement, and you go to ease up a little, make sure what you're doing is okay, but Cas doesn't let you. If possible, he pulls you closer, kisses you harder, grips you tighter. And it's something else, that's for sure. A closed-mouth kiss, with nothing but touching lips, and it makes your heart heavier and happier than any other kiss in your life.

But then Cas shifts, pushes you back down into your previous lying position, and climbs on top of you, settles between your open legs, and changes those soft, too-much-but-not-enough kisses into something more, something that hurts and makes everything better all at once. His tongue slips into your mouth, slides sweetly against your own, and causes you to groan and push forward, kissing him with everything you have.

And for an assumed virgin - you consider reminding yourself to ask about that later - he's one hell of a kisser. His tongue and teeth make you crazy. You figure it's the years he's spent watching humanity, and happily go with it, biting and licking into his mouth, using every trick you've got to get him panting and moaning above you. You hold his face in your hands, delighting in the feel of his scruff against your palms, and desperately want more.

Without much thought, you roll your hips up into his.

"Dean," he moans, pulling back.

You lick your spit-slicked lips. "What is it, Cas?"

"Do that again."

You swallow hard and do it again, pressing against him, feeling his own hard cock against your own through the denim of your jeans, and you look up at him, taking in his blown pupils and blue irises. He stares back at you and shudders out a breath when you move again, only this time he comes to meet you and it's almost too much.

You sit up a little, pushing him up with you, and divest yourself of your shirt. Cas does the same, and then he's on you again, kissing you distractedly and his are _everywhere_ \- every inch of skin he _can_ touch, he touches, with the kind of enthusiasm you wholeheartedly share.

When his hands reach the waistband of your jeans, you pull away from his mouth and curse when he attaches his lips to your pulse points.

"Fuck, you're damn eager aren't you?"

He responds by shoving his hand down your pants and palming your dick.

"I lost this chance once before," he mumbles, lips against your throat. "I don't plan on doing it again."

You grunt and thrust up, your breathing harsh and your hands all over his skin; you stroke the muscles of his back and think about his wings, you run your nails through the hair on the back of his neck and tilt your head back, you smooth your fingers over his nipples and almost come against his hand at the way he stutters out your name.

You pull his hand out, completely ignoring his noise of protest, and push him up until he's straddling you. He sucks in a breath as you yank at his jeans until the button is open and the zipper is down, your knuckles grazing his cock in the process. His straining dick pops free, but you stare up at him, and whatever profound bond the two of you have is … _there_. You can feel it, almost like an invisible string of gold or silk or something just as precious, connecting your heart to Cas', and you don't give a shit how lame it sounds because it feels so fucking awesome.

Cas stares down at you, eyes lust-filled and heavy, and you say the first thing that comes to mind.

"I'm glad you found me."

He swallows. "Me, too, Dean."

Before things can get anymore more mushy, you shove his jeans down past his ass, and then go for your own, pushing them down your thighs. Unlike you with Cas', though, he stares at your hard dick, breathing uneven and fingers shaking as he moves to touch it. He strokes it softly, two fingers down the shaft, and you whine a very unmanly whine.

He looks back into your eyes, and you know you're not imaging the smug expression on his face. You scowl, mutter something about him being a teasing shit, then pull him by the back of the neck into a bruising kiss. He grunts into your mouth at the feel of your dick against his, and yeah, it's good.

You move again, just like you did when there were two layers of denim in the way, only this time it's flesh on flesh, and it's hot and sticky and filthy. Your heart stutters as Cas moves with you, a litany of _more, more, more_ falling from his lips and into yours, and all you can do is agree, whisper _yes_ against his mouth over and over again.

A rhythm comes quickly, everything messy and wet as you and Cas fuck against each other, and it's amazing - it's tingles down your spine, flips in your stomach, and goose pimples everywhere. It's Cas nipping at your collarbone, you arching up against him, the both of you grabbing and grasping each other anywhere possible.

But it becomes too much and not enough, and you need more and less all at once, but without thought you choose more. You grip Cas ass in your hands, and thrust harshly against him. He growls against you, and if you thought the dominant way he shoved you against that alley wall all those years ago was hot, it doesn't even compare to this.

He moves against you, face inches from your own, hands bracing his body above you. You squeeze his ass cheeks desperately, feeling something white-hot spread in the pit of your stomach, and then you come, unexpected and unannounced, shaking and shivering as your thrusts become erratic and messy.

"Dean," Cas says, but it's more of a gasp, and you don't know if it's due to seeing you come or whatever he's feeling because as he moves one hand to grip your hip, the other gives out on him until his face is buried in your neck and his come is mixes with your own.


	6. Part Six

**PART SIX**

You say yes to Gabriel the next morning.

"Yes what?" he asks, popping gum and slouching against the nearest tree.

"Yes, I'll be your vessel."

He stands up straight. "Really?"

"Yeah."

You left Cas sleeping on the floor half an hour ago, with a note telling him not to worry. You know that he will worry, though, but that doesn't matter right now. What matters is that, even in his sleep he looks worried, and you hate that. You hate that even what happened between the two of you the night before hasn't eased any of the stress he's under.

It hasn't exactly eased any of your own stress, either, but did helped you figure out a few things.

So you left the apartment, prayed for Gabriel, then instructed him to take you somewhere deserted, somewhere no one would find you. Now you're on a hill overlooking Lawrence, it's way too early, and you really want some fucking coffee.

And you just said yes.

"Huh." He grits his teeth for a moment. "Not gonna lie, kiddo, I was kind of hoping you'd say no so we could both get out of this."

You frown. "Should I take it back?"

"No! No. Of course not. We can do this, right? I mean, you're Dean Winchester, and I'm _me_. Archangel, trickster extraordinaire, one half of the secret weapon. You and me, Dean-o, we got this."

He doesn't even pretend to sound sure of himself, and it would probably worry you if you weren't already scared shitless. So you ignore it, put it down to Gabriel being Gabriel, and blink suddenly at the thought that crosses your mind.

"Lucifer doesn't know you're alive." It comes out as a statement, though this is the first you're realising it.

He grins. "You think I took off that day he turned up because I'm chicken? Please. I've been staying right out of sight to keep the fact that I'm alive a secret since that night in Indiana - had a feeling I'd be needed at some stage."

"You knew this would happen?"

"No. I knew you wouldn't say yes, had a feeling Sam would, but never knew _this_ was going to happen." He shrugs. "Michael locking up Heaven with both him and Raphael up there didn't come as a surprise, but it did leave me as the only Archangel on earth able to defeat Lucifer. Now _that_ was a surprise."

You smirk. "Try living a normal, totally natural life, then finding out you're supposed to kill the devil."

"Touché."

"So. What now?"

"Now? Now we watch the sunrise."

You frown. "Really?"

"It might be one of our last, Dean-o. You wanna make the most of that."

If it's really your last day on earth, then you don't think watching a sunrise is the right thing to do. Hell, you feel like the sun should be hidden behind dark and threatening clouds, leading up to the storm that hits right as you face off with Lucifer.

But it is a sunrise, and if you're being forced to watch it, you think you should be watching it with Cas.

You don't like how that makes you feel, so you turn to Gabriel and keep talking.

"Everyone okay? Jody and Bobby? Tessa?"

"Everyone's good. There were a few cuts and bruises, but they healed easily enough." He digs an Almond Joy out of his pocket. "What about you and Castiel? Everything okay there?"

"Yeah. We found somewhere safe to hole up for the night, and he healed the few cuts I had."

He snorts. "That's totally not what I meant."

"What?"

"Something made you say yes this morning, and it sure as hell wasn't what went down with the demon yesterday. What did Cas say, huh? How'd he convince you to do it?"

"He didn't say anything."

"Bull."

You shrug. "Think whatever you want, man. Cas doesn't even know I'm here, remember?"

"That doesn't mean he has nothing to do with you saying yes."

The sun peeks over the earth, and you squint against its rays. "I don't know what you want me to say; I decided to do the vessel thing, and then I prayed for you."

"Okay." He nods slowly, biting into his candy bar, and then he grins. "How'd that feel, huh? Praying to me? Bet you never thought you'd be doing that!"

You smirk. "Definitely wasn't something I ever thought I'd do. I mean, I've met a few angels in my time, and most of them suck a lot more than you do, but … you're still a dick."

"Oh, Dean." He holds a hand to his heart. "You sure know how to sweet-talk an angel. No wonder Cas will do any damn thing you want."

You quickly change the subject. "Why are you banned from travelling through the realities?"

"Cas tell you about that, did he?"

"Yeah, he wouldn't tell me why, though." And, honestly, you haven't given it much thought, but if you're going to be Gabriel's vessel then you figure you can give this bonding thing a go. Plus you don't want to talk to Gabriel about Cas.

"I, uh, I had relations in another realm that I absolutely shouldn't have had."

You snort. "That's exactly what Cas said. What did you do?"

"More like _who_ did I do?"

"Okay. Who did you do?"

"Your brother. Well, a version of him."

You gape. "Wh - what?"

"Sam. There was this version who was very … _obvious_ in his attraction for me, and, Dean, I'm just a man. I tried to refuse, I really did, but it was impossible."

"Fuck."

"Indeed we did."

You stand. "Okay. The sunrise can suck it. I'm ready to go."

Gabriel laughs. He doesn't say anything else, but he laughs and laughs as he touches your forehead to get you back to Cas, and continues to laugh for a moment outside the apartment you and Cas stayed in the night before.

Then he abruptly stops and looks at you seriously. "Well, now that that's sorted, now that I've got your help, I think we got this … we got this, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

His eyes widen. "You _think_ so?"

"Dude. I'm not the fucking angel here, okay? Have a little faith in yourself."

"Yes. You're right." He shoves a new piece of gum into his mouth, then offers you one, which you refuse. "I might not be as strong as Michael or Raphael, but you were the best hunter out there, Dean, and I don't doubt you still are. We got this."

You nod. "Yeah. We've totally got this."

He nods, too, and then you're both awkwardly nodding as the realisation that you're screwed hangs in the air.

Angry doesn't even begin to cover Cas' mood when you walk inside the apartment. He stands above your sleeping bag, your note clutched tightly in his hand, and glares at you.

"Dean."

"Uh, hey, Cas."

The only noise that follows is your note being scrunched by Cas' tight fist. You grimace slightly, remembering exactly what that fist can do, and take a small step forward.

"Listen, I know I shouldn't have just taken off like that -"

"Oh. Oh you know that, do you?"

"Look, it's not like I ran off to take care of Lucifer by myself, man." Which, you know as well as Cas does that that's exactly what you would have attempted four years ago. "I was with Gabriel, okay? We were talking."

"You were talking. Well, okay then!"

"Cas -"

He crosses the six feet between you in seconds, not stopping until he's right in front of you, and you're pressed back against the door. His hands fist into your shirt, one of them still holding your note, and the look in his eyes is feral.

"How was I supposed to know?" he hisses. "How was I supposed to know that _you_ wrote this? How was I supposed to know you hadn't been taken? How was I supposed to know you were okay?"

"Cas, please -"

His fingers curl tighter. "You can't just take off these days, Dean! This is war, the end of the world. You can't trust anyone."

"Not even Gabriel?"

"That's not what I meant," he mutters. He lets go of your shirt and takes a step back. "You could have been hurt, and I wouldn't have had a clue where to find you."

Warmth fills your chest as you nibble on your lower lip. You fight a smile. "You were worried?"

"Of course I was worried." He throws a quick glare at you.

"You don't have to worry about me, Cas."

He scoffs. "Please. I have to worry about you more than anyone else in this insane group of people we call family. Well, you and Gabriel."

Your previously toasty heart sinks at his words, and the real reason you were brought to this universe comes flooding back.

"Yeah. Because it's up to us to kill the devil, right?"

"What? No. Because Gabriel can be a real idiot sometimes, and because I only just got you back."

"Oh." You purse your lips and nod slightly. "Okay. Cool."

He stares at you and you stare back, and now that you have _every single memory_ of this staring thing you and Cas do, you know it was never really awkward. Maybe for the people around you, and you liked to pretend it was for you, but it wasn't. Not ever.

Except a little bit now.

After what happened between the two of you the night before, Cas had fallen asleep quickly and hard - and you kind of like to think the kick-ass orgasm had something to do with that - which means you haven't had the chance to _talk_ yet. You don't really want to talk, but he's giving you a look that you can't decipher, but you think it means you might need to talk.

To talk _the_ talk.

"Frowning gives you wrinkles," he says from nowhere.

"Huh?"

He takes a few steps closer. "Just something Sarah's come to tell me over the years. You're frowning incredibly hard there, Dean."

"Oh, right." You do your best to smooth the frown out before replying. "I was just thinking, you know, that we should probably talk about, uh, last night."

"Last night?"

"Yeah. What happened. Between us, I mean."

By the way Cas smirks at you, you have no doubt that your cheeks are smudged pink. You prattle on anyway, unable to help yourself.

"I just mean that … uh, maybe we should, like, talk."

"Yes, I believe that's what you said the first time."

You let your head fall back against the door behind you. "Dude."

Cas moves right up into your personal space, which, really, is exactly where you want him always from now on.

"I think I quite like this new you," he says.

"There is no new me," you insist, despite your own thoughts recently. "I got all my memories back, remember? I'm me. Just me."

"Yes, you're you. You're the you from four years ago, but you're also the you from the last four years - together they brings out a side of you that I'd never seen before."

"Oh yeah?" You hate how breathy your voice is, mostly because Cas isn't anywhere near close enough and it's his words causing you to inhale a little more sharply than usual.

"The old you … well, I'm sure you remember. I don't think the old you ever would have cornered me in a bedroom of an abandoned house and insisted I admit to what our profound bond meant to me."

You chuckle. "Yeah, that's probably true."

"And the you from the last four years was terrified of his own blood - I'm glad that's changed."

"Shut up." You grin.

Cas presses closer still, the fabric of his clothing shifting lightly against your own as his gaze flickers between your eyes and your mouth. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm just as in love with the Dean you've become as I was the Dean you were, and the Dean I fell for when you first came back."

Your heart beats hard, and it's so heavy and loud that you're surprised the it hasn't caught the attention of Lucifer himself.

"Shit."

"Too much?"

You shake your head. "Nah, man, not at all."

He lifts his gaze from your lips back to your eyes, completely serious. "Dean, what did you talk to Gabriel about?"

"I - I said yes. I'm gonna be his vessel."

"I thought as much." He nods to himself a few times. "So you're going up against Lucifer soon."

"Yeah."

"Then I suppose we should probably make the most of our time together."

"What do you - _oh_."

Cas slips to his knees with ease. "I've always wanted to try this," he admits. "Well, once I realised one of the things I felt for you was sexual attraction."

"Jesus, Cas," you say, and all it takes for you to get hard is him undoing your button and zipper.

He looks up at you, eyes so genuine and clear you could cry. "This is okay, yes?"

"Fuck yeah."

And when Cas, angel of the fucking Lord, swallows down your cock in one swift move, it's enough to make you tremble, to make your knees weak. It's all messy-wet lips and a swirling, twirling tongue; base-to-tip licks and sweet, gentle suckles; and a hot, overwhelming heat encompassing your hard dick as Cas nuzzles against you.

Just like the night before, it's too much and it's not enough, and you thread your fingers through Cas' hair, tug slightly, and moan. His hands slither up your thighs, around your hips, grab greedily at your ass, and your moans becomes chocked when he pulls you closer, inviting you to move.

You do so, slowly, cautiously, but he grunts around you and draws you in himself until you hit the back of his throat.

"Fuck," you say again, and you take the hint, you move your hips and fuck into his mouth, and Cas takes it all fluidly, making filthy sounds around your dick as he sucks and licks. His fingers knead and spread your ass cheeks as you increase the roll of your hips, and you can feel the pressure building, feel that heat coil up your spine.

You open your moth to warn Cas, to give him the option of pulling away, but he slips a finger between your cheeks and touches your hole. You come immediately, without warning, and Cas drinks it all down with a really fucking satisfied moan.

You sip steadily at the flask you brought along with you, and watch Jody beat Bobby at chess in the living room. You're in another abandoned house, another town closer to Lawrence, and reunited with everyone. Even better, Cas checked in on Bobby's house earlier that afternoon, and not only is everyone safe, but they seem to be doing their part of the plan, too.

The plan. Upon arriving at the abandoned house Bobby and Tessa had spent the previous night in, Gabriel had whisked you off to fill you in on the rest of the plan. You're the last person to know these details of the plan, too, and you're not that surprised. Pissed about it, sure, but not surprised.

Four years ago you would have _planned_ the entire plan, but things are different now. Now, with this new you showing itself constantly, you would have fought the plan with everything you had because it's dangerous. Too dangerous for too many people.

There's nothing you can do about it, though. Only you, Cas, Gabriel, and Tessa know _every_ detail about the plan - though Bobby keeps giving you furtive glances, clearly desperate to know more - and you want to keep it that way. The less people who know, the better, and that's the old you coming out there.

You can't risk someone being caught, tortured, and then spilling everything. You just can't risk it.

So the plan is in two parts - theirs and yours - and you don't know which terrifies you more.

Gabriel leans across the table to meet your gaze. "There's more."

"Of course there is."

The back of Cas' knuckles brush your thigh, and maybe it's enough to calm your petulance, so you take a drink and indicate for Gabriel to continue. And you ignore the arched eyebrow and amused smirk from Tessa.

"As you know, the plan is to kill Lucifer with my archangel blade."

You nod; you remember Cas giving you that one detail the day he took you around the other realms. "Yeah, there a problem with that?"

"Only that, in order to use it against him, we have to get right up in his face." He leans back against his chair. "Not an easy feat when you're facing the devil."

You sigh. "And I suppose he's quick, right? I mean, you could do your disappearing and reappearing thing all over that damn cemetery, and he'd be waiting for you at every stop."

"I'd say so."

"Okay, so what do we do?"

"I don't know."

"You don't _know_?"

Tessa calmly speaks up. "We don't like it either, okay? But this is something none of us have been able to figure out. We were kind of hoping it would just come to us … or that you might have an idea."

And the weird thing is, you do. You don't know if it's a good idea, or if it's just the liquor making you think it's the best fucking idea any of you could possibly come up with, but you grin at the scene going through your mind.

"Let's do this Indiana Jones style."

For half a second, three blank faces stare back at you. Then Gabriel breaks out in a giant grin and stands.

"You, Dean Winchester, are a goddamn genius!"

You grin at his excitement. "So it can be done?"

"With the right materials, I don't see why not."

"Well being that your archangel blade is the only one we have, I fucking hope you're right."

"I don't understand," Tessa says, just as Cas admits he doesn't get it.

"I'll explain later," you tell them both, reaching for Gabriel's pen and paper, "but for now, I need you two to grab these items. Now."

They both read and memorise the list, then leave immediately - though Cas' hand does brush yours slightly before he leaves. Skin still tingling at the touch, you only nod when Gabriel tells you he's going to play chess with Jody while Bobby does his rounds.

You feel like you should be smoking; you're stressed, but full of energy and a need to relieve some tension. Smoking seems like the logical choice, but you've only ever been a social smoker, and, more often or not, only when it was weed. But you want to smoke now. Things are getting close, the plan is almost complete, and in days you'll be going up against Lucifer.

You've got so much fucking _go_ running through you, though, that you want it to be now. You're ready now.

"Dean." Bobby interrupts your thoughts as he sits next to you, looking determined.

"Hey."

He pulls out his own flask and takes a large drink. "You gonna tell me what's going on?"

"Nope."

"Damn it, boy, this isn't something we can just waddle through with our eyes closed."

"No ones waddling anywhere."

"This isn't a joke, Dean."

You turn to glare at him. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't realise I'm going up against Lucifer again? That he killed me last time and could very well kill me again? Christ."

"Don't you go talkin' like that, you hear me? Whatever it is you plan on doing this time, it's gonna work."

"And how do you know that? You don't even know what it is I plan on doing."

He stiffens next to you and you look to your feet. Bobby doesn't deserve this shit from you, not when you know he's over here, having this talk with you because he's worried about you. Especially not when you feel pretty damn good about the plan as it is, and you know you're unfairly taking your edginess out on Bobby.

"Sorry," you mumble. "It's just …"

"I have a fair idea, you know? What you plan on doing with that idiot angel."

"You do?"

"I've been let in on enough meetings to make sense of their plan. I've also done my fair share of research - the best way to kill Lucifer is with a Winchester and an Archangel."

You toast his flask with yours. "Lucky me, huh?"

"None of the others know this."

"No, they don't."

"And we have to keep it that way."

You blink, sit up a little straighter. "You think so?"

"I know so. The more people who know, the more dangerous it'll be for them. Not just if they get captured, but because the majority of them will insist upon being there when you go up against Lucifer."

"They can't!" You twist around and grip Bobby's arm. "They can't be there. None of you can."

"Well of course not, idjit, we both know how well that went last time."

"Exactly."

"Not just that, but they have their own jobs to do." He shrugs. "I'm just saying, they'll want to be there, to support you. To have your back."

You stay silent for a long moment before answering. "Well, that's sweet and all, but not necessary."

"Oh?"

You glance at Gabriel. He's carefully studying the chess board, fingers stapled beneath his chin and eyes in front of him, but you get the distinct impression he's listening in. You nod.

"Yeah. I think we'll be good."

You're still not sure how much you believe that - your moment of excitement in figuring out a part of the plan is over, and you're full of nervous energy again - but as soon as it's out of your mouth, Gabriel moves his Bishop, and declares _check mate_.

You fuck Cas that night.

It's like he can feel how antsy you are, how badly you need to do something other than sit around and play it safe. So after the two of you finish first sentry duty, he drags you upstairs with him.

Once in his room, he kisses you, hard and desperate and eager for reciprocation that you immediately give. You push and shove at clothes and skin as you move towards the bed, wanting, needing, loving. Cas gasps at every touch, and you don't think you'll ever get sick of how vocally appreciative he is, how physically enthusiastic he is.

Lip between his teeth, he undoes your belt and zipper with nothing more than a flick of his wrist, and you grin, but your grin turns to a slack-jawed grunt when he slips both hands inside the fabric, and pushes your jeans and boxers to the floor without preamble. You kick them away, and quickly yank off your undershirt, leaving you naked.

This time Cas grins, but it's with a slight blush to his fuzzy cheeks that you can't help but find endearing and adorable and so fucking hot. The blush doesn't stop until mid-chest, and you lean forward to lick it away while you deal to his jeans and underwear.

And then he's naked and it's glorious, without a doubt the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, and you push him back into the bed without a word. He chuckles throatily as he pulls you on top of him, voice cracking when your hard cock brushes against his own, and you can't help it, you have to kiss him and kiss him, and you swear to yourself then and there to kiss him every fucking chance you get.

Cas, bless his heart, seems happy to let you. He grasps your forearms, wraps his legs around your waist, and writhes, wriggles, weeps for more and more and more, and of course you're willing to give. Fuck, at this stage of your relationship with him, you'll give him whatever the hell he wants.

There's no talking about it, though. You don't discuss it, you don't ask him if he wants to, you don't pull away to keep from going to far. You just kiss and touch, take pleasure in the way Cas kisses and touches back. You move down his body, licking and biting, listening to his whispered prayers, and then he's right in front of you, dick hard and leaking, legs spread, entirely yours.

You lift his legs over your shoulders, grasp an ass cheek in each hand, and lick a long, slow, wet lick over his hole. His entire body jerks, and you quickly move your hands to his hips, hold him down as he squirms away and then thrusts toward your face for more. You give him more, push your face right in there - because you'll give him anything - and you both know what you're doing, why you're doing it, that licking Cas out like this is just as much about loosening him up as it is his pleasure.

Almost.

When you slip one finger in next to your tongue, Cas comes hard. Shocked, you pull your face away to watch, grinning at the pure fucking bliss on his face as his dick spurts, completely untouched. You leave your finger where it is, though, and let it coax Cas through his orgasm until he's a shivering mess and you pull out.

You swallow and force your grin away. "Wow."

"Shut up."

"Dude, that -"

"Was very sensitive," he insists. "I've never been touched like that before, and it was … overwhelming."

"Clearly."

He opens his eyes to glare, and you can't help but grin again.

"Shut up," he says.

"Cas, man." You lean over him and let the head of your dick press against his hole. He hisses at the touch, but doesn't move away. "Cas, that was fucking hot."

His brow furrows. "So, we can keep going?"

"Fuck yes! Unless you want to stop?"

"Hell no," he whispers, and pulls you down for another kiss.

Your aching now, your dick hanging heavy between your legs, but you kiss Cas and try your fucking best to keep calm because he's just clarified for you that, yes, he is still a virgin. But he urges you on, rocks up against you and your cock, and pulls away to encourage you.

"C'mon, Dean," he whines, "finish what you started."

Gulping, you swipe your fingers through the mess on Cas' stomach, and slip two into his sensitive hole, and he pushes against them, demanding more, more, more, _now, Dean, more._

"Cas, fuck -"

He kisses you, hands holding your face as close as it can possibly be as his legs lift higher around your waist, and you whimper. One hand slides beneath Cas to hold his shoulder, while the other continues to plunge three fingers into Cas until you just can't keep going. You take your fingers out, try not to come apart at the devastated sound Cas makes when you do, and quickly slick up your cock with what's left of Cas' come. Your cock at his entrance, you push in steadily, meeting no resistance from Cas, but having to stop and simply breath once you're as deep as you can go.

But then Cas grunts and shoves and digs his nails into your ass. " _Move_ , Dean."

You move, and quickly. You fuck into Cas, clutch his hip with your free hand, and press wet, sloppy kisses to his neck and jaw, and the entire time Cas eggs you on with moans of your name, whispers of how good you're making him feel, and the occasional hitch of breath when you hit just the right spot.

You don't last long. Cas is so tight and hot around you, dragging nail down your back, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, and clenching his ass around you, that you come within minutes, shuddering against him as hums in delight and sooths your skin with his hands and lips.

What feels like minutes later, Cas complains that you're squishing him. You pull back, and for the first time since becoming yourself, silently wonder just how much angel Cas has left in him. He eats, he sleeps, he gets squished after sex. _He has sex_. You decide against bringing it up, though, because he's looking up at you with big, soft eyes, and you don't want to ruin it.

You pull out slowly, wincing at Cas' wince, and fall to his side. He lies there, looking at the ceiling, smooth chest breathing evenly, and for once in your fucking life, you do exactly what you want and lean in to cuddle.

It's not much of a cuddle - just your arm across his waist, while your nose nuzzles at his shoulder - but it's nice and definitely the kind of thing the old you would have put off until the last minute. But Cas doesn't say anything about that, he just smiles to himself, looking rather proud, until you gently bite the muscle of his shoulder. Then he laces his fingers together with yours, and closes his eyes.

You follow suit, and it surprises you how quickly you manage to doze off. Without your permission, your leg finds its way between Cas', and you somehow end up lying more on his arm than next to it; it's not comfortable - probably for either of you - but it's good and you like it and you don't realise just how much until you let out a sleepy murmur of content.

Cas chuckles.

You peak one eye open. "Quit mocking me."

"I didn't say a word."

"I heard you. And I can see your face."

He turns to look at you. "I'm merely smiling. I'm … happy." And he says it so sincerely, so peacefully, that you decide to believe that's truly what had him smiling, and go back to nosing at his arm.

"Though I never really thought you'd be one for cuddling."

You use the hand across his waist to pinch him, and he lets out the most adorable grunt-slash-giggle, and you snort; never, in a million years, would you have expected that noise to come from an angel, your angel. Your snort quickly turns into an _oomph_ , though, as Cas grabs your arms and flips you both. He holds both of your arms to the mattress as he straddles you, and yeah, your spent dick definitely gives a twitch of interest at Cas' dominant side.

You stare up at him, tempted to be defiant, just to see what he does, but not wanting to push your luck. In the end, you just cock an eyebrow and wait.

"You do things to me, Dean Winchester," he finally says, still holding you in place.

"Good things, I hope."

He nods, but it's contemplative. "Yes, good things. And I want to do good things for you, too."

"Well, if you're talking about how fucking hot it is to have you pin me to the bed, then you're already there." You try to joke, but it sounds flat, even to you.

Cas narrows his eyes and stares at you long and hard. Then he tightens his grip and kisses you, his tongue plunging into your mouth, stealing all of your breath in one go, leaving you panting for more when he pulls back. He moves his hands, taking your arms with him, until he has you by both wrists above your own head.

"I know you don't like to talk about _feelings_ ," he says, and even throws in a disgusted tone, "and this isn't exactly great post-sex talk, but I need you to know this."

"Okay."

One of his hands lets you go, trails down your arm, over your shoulder, and stops to rest on your chest, fingers splaying over your heart.

"Dean, you … you make me feel. Angels aren't supposed to feel."

You nod, barely able to get words out. "So I've heard."

"I like the way you make me feel. I want to make you feel the same way."

Your heart aches and thuds and soars, all at once. "Cas, man." You swallow back your hesitance. "You already do."

"Yes, but you're human, you've always been human. This isn't new to you."

You shake your head. "What you and I have is definitely new to me."

His fingers, which had been stroking slow circles over your heart, stop. When they resume, they're a little closer to your nipple, and you bite your lip.

"What I'm saying is that I'm not the same angel I was when I pulled you out of Hell, and it's not just because I sleep and eat and drink now. It's because of you and the things you make me feel, the warmth that spreads through me when I'm with you." He pauses, staring into your eyes, and you know he's making sure that he's not freaking you out.

You nod. "Go on."

"I will be forever grateful for that, Dean," he says, "and I want to repay you, I want to give you what you've given me, in whatever way I can."

You shrug, as best you can with your arms trapped above your head. "Just … stick around then." Because that's it. If Cas wants you to feel what he feels, then all he needs to do is stick around, with you, for good.

He smiles. "I can do that."

You grin. "And kiss me. You have to kiss me."

He kisses you, a gentle press of his lips against yours, and then speaks softly. "Once this is over, once Lucifer is gone, once it's safe and Heaven opens up to me again, I am _going_ to find out what happened to Sam."

Your eyes fly open. "What?"

He sighs and sits up. "Like I said, not exactly appropriate post-sex talk, but -"

"Say it again."

He blinks down at you. "I - I will find out where Sam is. I don't know how, but I will use every power I still have to do it."

"You swear?"

"On my life."

You close you eyes, body tense and confused until both of Cas' hands begin touching you, tenderly roaming your skin in a way that's so clearly not meant to do more than relax you. With your hands now free, you slowly lower your arms and rest your hands against Cas' hips.

"This is a good thing, right?" he asks, and you hate that you made him question it.

You open your eyes. "Yeah, yeah it's a good thing."

"Good."

"Do - do you have any ideas?"

You've talked about this before, that one time the day you got all your memories back, but Sam has barely been mentioned since and there's a damn good reason for that. You have to kill the devil. The devil is wearing Sam. It's as simple as that. Four years and another life in another reality doesn't change that.

"As I said that first day, I may have missed him in Heaven, just as I had assumed I had done with you."

"Could he be in Hell?"

"I doubt it." Cas spreads his fingers along your ribs, making you aware of just how fucking tightly you're holding onto him. You loosen your fingers. "Lucifer wouldn't send Sam to Hell. He wouldn't send Sam anywhere. Sam is either still in there with him, or he's dead."

"And even if he is in there with Lucifer, there's not much chance he'll survive, right?"

"That's right, but at least he'll have peace."

And you didn't know until Cas mentioned it just how important that is to you. Sam deserves peace; if he doesn't get to live, then he deserves to go to Heaven, see Mom and Dad, find Jess. He deserves all the good things Heaven can offer him and earth never managed.

You nod. "Okay. You'll find out what happened to Sam."

"I will. It's too dangerous to go trying it now, but once this is all over, I will. And I will make sure he's okay."

"Cas -" You voice breaks in a way you hate, but you push through it. "Thanks, man."

He smiles. "Anything for you, Dean." And then he kisses you again, licks at your teeth, the roof of your mouth, your lips; nips at your jaw, your neck, your nipples; and then sucks at your hipbones, your balls, and your cock, works three fingers into you, and doesn't stop until you've forgotten everything but his name.

Cas and Tessa came through like fucking pros. Everything on the list you handed them is ticked off, twice.

"Just to be sure," she had said, carving more sigils into your weaponry.

And your idea had worked, eventually. You have what you need, the plan is sorted, and you're officially possessed by an angel.

And it's weird. You can still think clearly, even have _conversations_ of a sort with Gabriel, but all actions and spoken words are entirely his. Unless he's thinking directly, his thoughts are his and his alone, as are yours, but you have a feeling he can see your memories because there's this stupid tension in your head, like he's holding back from teasing you mercilessly about what's going on between you and Cas.

He doesn't say anything about it, though. Not even a smirk thrown in Cas' direction, or lewd thought thrown your way. He's entirely professional, and it surprises you.

 _There_ _'_ _s this thing called vessel-etiquette,_ his voice rings in your head, _where you keep your offensive thoughts to yourself._

You grin. To yourself, because no matter how hard you try, you cannot control your own body. Yet.

 _So, Winchester, here_ _'_ _s how it_ _'_ _s going to go down_ , he tells you … thinks to you? You're not really sure how this works. _We meet Lucifer at Stull Cemetery, and he_ _'_ _ll think you_ _'_ _re the you he saw last week. Yes, he_ _'_ _s an angel, but he_ _'_ _s pretty damn ruined in all things holy that he barely knows what a soul is anymore._ _"_

You frown to yourself. _Won_ _'_ _t he recognise you?_

_Eventually. He's so up on his high horse, that he's probably forgotten I ever existed. He'll see you're possessed, but it's not until he looks closely that he'll know it's me._

_And by that time we_ _'_ _ll be on our way back to Bobby_ _'_ _s? Having already killed him, right?_

_Nice try, kid_. Gabriel smirks for real, and you notice Jody give you an odd look. She doesn't know Gabriel is inside of you - nobody knows for sure except Cas and Tessa, and you want to keep it that way. Gabriel continues walking you through the plan. _One thing he won_ _'_ _t realise, is who you are_.

_Are you sure that even matters?_

_Positive._

It all seems very complicated to you. Yes, you are the blood relation to the Sam that Lucifer is occupying, and sure you're also a descendant of both Cain and Abel, and yes, you are a kick-ass hunter. But you're not sure why that makes you special in this scenario.

Gabriel sighs internally. _Because it was always supposed to be you, Dean. You were supposed to say yes to Michael, and fight it out with Lucifer then. Win or lose, it was only ever supposed to be you going up against him. And now you are._

 _We are_.

_That's right. Now, are you ready?_

_Nope. But let's do it._

Stull Cemetery looks exactly the same, almost down to the last leaf. You take in everything your eyes see through Gabriel's movements, and it's not a cool feeling. In fact, if it weren't for the angel overpowering your body, you'd feel downright sick right about now.

You died here. Sam killed you here.

No.

Lucifer killed you here.

Despite the uncool feeling of the place, you have no nerves, no uncertainties, nothing. Gabriel is you, you are Gabriel. You have your mind, and not much else, and that's actually pretty okay with you right now. It stops you from doing or saying or feeling anything stupid.

You're pretty sure a lack of feelings is what's going to save your ass this time around.

 _Keep cool, Dean-o_ , Gabriel thinks to you, and you frown.

 _I am cool_.

_Your entire soul is quivering, and not the good kind._

If you were in possession of your own skin, you know it'd be flushing with humiliation. _I'm a little nervous, sue me_.

Gabriel doesn't reply, and it takes you a moment to feel his tension. Your body is taught and at the ready, and you can _feel_ that Gabriel is no longer in the mood to banter with you. You can only see what he sees, take in what your eyes take in while he controls them, but he's staring in just the right place when Lucifer turns up.

He's wearing Sam, and anger surges through you, despite Gabriel being in control of your body. That's your brother, your Sam, and that fucking creature has no goddamn right to be wearing him. For a second you can almost feel yourself clenching your own fists, but Gabriel takes over quickly.

 _Relax_ , he tells you, voice unexpectedly soothing. _Just let me do this. You know the plan, have a little faith_.

You snort to yourself. Faith.

"I know you," Lucifer says, and it's Sam's voice but not. "But you're not Castiel."

"Nope, I'm not." Gabriel shoves your hands in your pockets.

"Then who are you?"

"Whoever you want me to be?"

You snort, he smirks for you, and then you panic at the realisation that you're not sure if he's trying to act like you or himself. At this moment, in this situation, you're not sure there's much of a difference.

Lucifer frowns Sam's eyes at you, and even though they're Sam's, you want to rip them from his body and never let him use them again. This is the first time you've really come up against him since that time here four years ago. The day he killed Ellen and Jo? You weren't yourself, you didn't get it. Now you get it, and he makes you furious, everything about him - the long hair, the pretentious suit, the rose -

There's a rose in his jacket pocket. A fucking red rose, and it hits you hard. Cas said the only real difference between _that_ universe and this one is that in that one, you lived. Well here you are, alive and well. Sure, you called Sam after that fucker Zachariah sent you into the future, but that does really make a difference?

Sam still said yes. It's still the apocalypse. You're still here, trying to kill the devil.

Your own voice speaking without your say-so brings you out of your panic, but you're glad Gabriel can ignore your fury and continue with the plan. Now you just need to make yourself do the same.

"Really?" he asks. "No idea at all? I mean, I knew it would take a bit for you to remember me, but I didn't think it would be this long. Especially now that you've got the meat suit you were always entitled to. That should make you stronger, right? Not stupider."

Sam's face smirks. "It seems to me that you're the one being very, _very_ , stupid."

"Probably. But, hey, what have I got to lose?"

"Your life."

"Wouldn't be the first time, dear brother."

Lucifer tilts his head in a way that makes you sick, and when he speaks, his voice is cool, calm. "Gabriel."

"Long time no see."

"And here I thought I had killed you many years ago."

"Indeed you did think that."

"How exactly did you deceive me that time?"

Gabriel holds your arms out as if to say _duh_. "Angel by birth, trickster by choice."

"Yes, you always were one for playing pranks."

"And look how far it's gotten me."

You can't feel a lot of your own anger or pain anymore - the pain you will always pretend never existed - but you can feel Gabriel's power. You don't know what he's doing, but it floods through you, surges through your every nerve, giving you hope.

"I have to say, Brother," Lucifer says, stepping forward, "I'm already sick of this chitter-chatter. I might not have killed you last time, but I will this time. And I will kill the vessel you're occupying, too. Done that plenty of times, also."

"Once. You've killed this vessel once."

"I've killed more Deans that you could count, Gabriel. You never were the brightest angel."

"Sure, insult me all you want, it won't change the fact that this vessel I'm in is special."

"Special? Really?"

Gabriel begins pacing back and forward in front of Lucifer, and it occurs to you that, anyone watching this, would simply see Sam and Dean having this conversation, and that weirds you out too much to think about.

"I'm not surprised you didn't figure it out that first time you popped over to see him - you're soul-searching skills are pretty lacking these days," Gabriel says in a tone that seems to know he's skating on thin ice. "But this vessel, while from a whole other universe, is the very same soul of the Dean you killed right here, about four years ago."

Lucifer visibly pales, lifts his chin a little, and for a second you think this might actually work. You still don't entirely understand why your real soul matters more than the soul you thought you had in the other universe, but you'll take it. Especially if Lucifer looks bothered by it.

Gabriel cocks his eyebrows. "Pretty cool, huh?"

He clears his throat. "You're not Michael, Gabriel. You're not strong enough to beat me."

"Not on my own," he agrees, "but with the righteous man _surrounding_ me? I'm strong enough to do any-fucking-thing I want."

That's not what he told you, but goddamn he sounds so sure of himself that you smile.

"You're not going to beat me, Gabriel."

"Keep telling yourself that, big brother." And he even sounds like a kid trying to rile up his older sibling.

Lucifer doesn't reply, but the sky goes crazy, dark clouds rushing to cover you, quickly opening up to pour icy cold water over the cemetery. You don't feel the cold of the rain, you only know of it, and it's kind of awesome. Not something you would like forever, but it's nice not to have to deal with feeling the soggy wetness of the rain. Or _anything_ even remotely emotional that you should be feeling right now.

Other than bouts anger, and only a small amount of fear. The fear is a small snippet at the back of your mind, though, as you wonder just what Lucifer is doing changing the weather like this. If it's some kind of trick to fool Gabriel, then it's pretty fucking dumb.

Hello, Trickster.

But it's not Lucifer.

"You think playing more tricks on me is going to scare me?"

Gabriel grins. "Nope."

Thunder and lightening crash overhead, over and over until you wonder just what the hell Gabriel is thinking. Lucifer isn't fazed, though; he stands and stares at Gabriel - or you? - with an amused expression, waiting it all out.

"Are you done?" he asks, when all the bad weather stops, nothing left but the dark clouds above.

Gabriel snorts. "Not even close." An angel blade drops from the sleeve of your jacket, but Lucifer just smiles.

"You know I could just do what I did to Castiel all those years ago and kill you with a click of my fingers?"

"I think we both know you couldn't. I might not be Michael, and I'm definitely not as strong as him, but I'm a lot smarter. And in this body, it's going to take more than a click of your fingers."

When Lucifer says nothing in reply, you know he knows Gabriel is right.

"Very well then." He has his archangel blade in his hand not a second later, and there's an odd shimmering in the air behind him.

Sam appears beside you. Not your Sam, or the Sam in front of you, but another Sam. An angry Sam that's wearing a Harvard jersey and a frown. There's a scar across his forehead, he's missing two fingers, and he looks fucking furious.

But then another Sam appears, this one looking just like the Sam you grew up with, and then another and another until you, Gabriel, and Lucifer are surrounded by Sams. If you had to guess, you'd say around one hundred and seventeen of them.

You know what this is, you know Sarah and Garth and Rufus and everyone not at this cemetery with you right now has been going through every universe possible, requesting every bitter, cheated, vengeful Sam they could find to help. To help kill the devil that who hurt them, ruined their lives, who took their Deans.

"What is this?" Lucifer asks.

"Oh, you know, a couple of dozen angry Sams, ready to take their revenge."

"On me? And how exactly do they plan on doing that?"

Gabriel sighs. "Yeah, I guess you've got a point there. There's not much any of these guys can do, huh?"

"Not a damn thing."

"Hmm, guess it's up to me then. Or, should I say, Dean."

This is it, this is your moment. It takes less than an instant for Gabriel to sit back, let you have control of your body again. You shake your shoulders out a little, try to ignore the look some of the Sams are giving you, and take a step forward.

Lucifer smiles. "Dean, I take it? Nice of you to make your presence known."

"I want my brother back."

He look at you with nothing but pity. "I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about that."

"Yeah, that's what I figured."

"But I'll make you a deal," he says, and all you can think about is the last time he said that to you, the way he killed Ellen and Jo right in front of you only minutes later. "You let me kill you and the angel inside of you, and I won't kill any of these Sams."

"Um … no."

"Very well -"

You pull the gun out of your waistband and aim it at him. It's enough to cut him off mid-sentence, but all he really does is frown at it.

"My, my," he says, "I believe this is what they call a deja vu, yes?"

"Yeah, only this time it will work." You walk closer to him, arm still holding the gun out in front of you. "Same gun, different bullets."

"And that's supposed to scare me?"

You take aim and shoot. The bullet hits him right in the heart, but he doesn't die immediately. Hell, he just smirks for a moment before the sizzling begins.

"Archangel blade bullets," you tell him. "Engraved with devil's traps strong enough that even you can't escape. Not when it's inside of you."

Despite the blood oozing from his body, and the burning vapour coming from his gunshot wound, Lucifer sneers. "You can't burn down an archangel blade. _Nothing_ on earth is powerful enough for that."

You shoot him again, this time on the other side of his chest, and then lower the gun, knowing all it will take is a shot to the head but you have more to say. And you're beginning to get a little trigger-happy.

"Nothing except an archangel," you say. You give the signal to the Sam right behind Lucifer, and he pulls something out of his jeans pocket. "Gabriel took the time to smite his own blade, and this is what happened. Now, is there anything you want to say before I kill you?"

"This won't -"

You lift your arm and shoot him, right through the head, just as Sam drops the Four Horsemen rings to the ground behind him. Lucifer's eyes bulge for a split second, and then he falls to the ground, body wilting and skin peeling. You hate it, you hate seeing this happen to Sam's body, but you walk towards it anyway, just to be sure.

And then you're sure. Lucifer's dead.

You don't feel Gabriel leave your body, but he, Cas, and Tessa appear next to you immediately. You ignore them and don't stop walking until you're right in front of Lucifer's body, Sam's body, expecting him to laugh at you and stand up any moment.

He never does, and you take real fucking pleasure in kicking the body into the pit that's formed behind him.

You drink for three days straight after that.

Then again, other than Tessa and Cas, so does everyone else. If they aren't passed out on Bobby's floor, couch, or dinner table, they're singing and dancing and drinking. Chuck even scrounged up some weed, though he refuses to say where he got it.

It's a party. It's still the apocalypse, but the devil is dead, and with him, his closest demons. The world is still full of Croats, but with Lucifer gone, the military is regaining control over everything. Slowly. Really fucking slowly in the sense that they've made contact with Bobby and other groups out there, but that's literally it.

You haven't slept in three days. You drink constantly, keeping yourself buzzed enough to not have to think, but neve getting so drunk you might pass out, because the one time you did begin to doze, the night after Stull Cemetery, you were jolted back to consciousness by the image of Sam dying.

It wasn't Sam, obviously, but you're still having a hard time dealing with that, so you drink, you smoke a little weed with Chuck and Sarah, and you avoid anything even remotely related to emotions. It's the old you showing its ugly face, pushing people away when you need them most, but you can't bring yourself to care.

About halfway through day two, Cas tries to get you to talk. When that doesn't work, he leaves with Tessa to take care of a few things and you're okay with that. Really. You don't want him to see you like this.

On the night of the third day, you drink yourself sick, no longer caring about much of anything at all.

On day four, you drink nothing but water.

That's how Cas finds you that afternoon, hiding away the Impala, guzzling water, and trying to deal with the mother of all hangovers. When you left the house, Gabriel was dancing, singing, and cooking in the kitchen, possibly smoking a joint while he was at it; Garth was trying to teach himself how to play guitar in the living room; and almost everyone else was outside grilling on the barbeque.

You will join them. You will. Just … soon. You've stopped drinking, but you need a little more time before you become actively sociable again, before you can truly celebrate, rather than just sitting near them while chugging Jack out of the bottle.

Cas appears next to you, and the surprise is enough to increase your headache by about a million.

"Christ, man."

He smiles apologetically. "Sorry. But I see you've moved on from the hard stuff."

"Figured it had to happen eventually."

"Well I'm glad."

You snort. "Becoming a little too much like the old me, am I?"

"No, it's not that. We need to talk."

You sigh, because Cas saying that you need to talk will probably never amount to anything good. You swallow back what's left in your water bottle before telling him to proceed, but Tessa arrives just as he opens his mouth to speak. He turns to her.

"Anything?"

"Nothing."

You turn in your seat so you can see them both. "What's going on?"

They're both silent for a long moment, eyeing each other carefully, and it just makes you antsy.

"Whatever it is, just spit it out."

Cas nods. "I can't find Sam. I promised you I would find him, make sure he was okay, but … I'm sorry, Dean, I just can't find him anywhere."

"But - how is that possible?"

"I'm not sure."

Your head pounds, and you can't quite wrap it around what Cas is saying. Lucifer is dead, and Sam is surely dead, too, but he should be somewhere. He has to be _somewhere_.

"It's not possible," Tessa says. "I talked to Michael yesterday -"

"You can do that?"

She nods. "Michael is furious; he refuses to talk to Castiel, Gabriel, or any angel on earth who didn't immediately head back to Heaven before he closed the gates, and not at all thankful for what they did. He's still resentful about what happened that first day at Stull."

You smirk. "You mean when Cas called him an assbutt?"

Cas pouts. "Shut up."

"But I'm a reaper," she continues. "He has no power over me. I can enter Heaven seventy-two times a day if I want to, just to talk to him about the financial crisis of 1929. The only reason I never double checked with him that _you_ were up there is because Cas had already looked all over. We just assumed he missed you."

You nod. "So what did Michael say?"

"I asked him to point me in the direction of Sam, hoping it would save me a shit-tonne of time, and he said Sam isn't there - never was."

"What does that mean? Is he lying?"

"He's not lying," she says. "It took some persuading, but I eventually convinced him to let me look around. I can go to Heaven whenever I want, but the one place I can't enter without permission is other people's heavens. So I talked Michael into letting me look around, bringing Cas with me, and …"

"And he's not there," Cas finishes.

"At all?"

"At all."

You frown. "Is he in Hell?"

Cas shakes his head. "Crowley searched everywhere down there, and he's not there."

"He's not in the Veil, either," Tessa says. "He's literally disappeared off the face of the earth."

"There - there's nowhere else he could be?" you ask Cas, and he furrows his eyebrows.

"Nowhere I can think of, Dean. I'm sorry."

"But what if …" You frown, press your fingers into your eyeballs, and _think_. "What if he's somewhere else? Like I was?"

"You mean in another universe?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's possible, right?"

"It's definitely not impossible," Tessa says.

"So he could have done what I did," you says, thinking out loud as it all comes to you. "Maybe killing me that day at Stull was too much and he left, just like I did, and … holy fuck."

It dawns on you so completely, and there's nothing, not a single thing to prove you're right, but you know. You just fucking know.

"Dean?"

"It's him." You stare at Cas. "The Sam you took me to, the one in the hospital, it's him!"

Cas shares a glance with Tessa before replying. "Dean, if Sam did leave the way you did, then it could be _any_ Sam in _any_ universe."

"But it's not! It's him, Cas, I know it is. Think about what he said that day - _you should probably kill me, too. I did kill my brother_."

"He could have been referring to Lucifer."

"Was he referring to Lucifer when he mentioned killing Bobby? Or claiming there was a whole list of people who were dead because of him?" You grasp Cas' leg. "Think about it, Cas! All of a sudden he's placing Bobby in the same category as you and me? As if we were all killed together, at the same place, by the same person."

Cas stares at you, long and hard, and you know he's trying to figure you out, work out whether or not you're grasping at straws. You don't look away, not once, because you're right on this one. You squeeze his leg.

"Even you said he's not whole, Cas."

He nods. "He wasn't whole. His soul was … broken."

"It's _him_ , Cas, I know it is."

"Okay."

"Okay?" you and Tess both ask at the same time, and Cas nods.

"Okay. If you truly believe that Sam is your Sam, then I truly believe you."

And the words he spoke in this exact place a little over a week ago ring in your head. _There_ _'_ _s nothing, in any universe, that has ever held my faith the way you do._

You take a steadying breath. "Thanks, Cas."

You have to wait until late, and the almost eight hours that takes nearly ruins your certainty, gives you enough time to second-guess yourself, lets you pace and fret and realise that you don't know shit about souls and what they do and you might just be talking out of your ass with this whole idea.

There's only one way to find out, though, and if it turns out you're wrong, then you'll deal with it. But for now, you're going to keep your hopes up because, despite the new doubt creepy over you, you just know.

"Ready?" Tessa is behind you, and you turn to face her.

"You're coming?"

"Cas might not be enough to heal Sam on his own, and Gabriel can't come - Castiel would have to make a whole new sigil to let him travel again - so you're stuck with me."

"You can heal?"

She smirks. "I don't just do the bad stuff, Dean."

Cas and Bobby come outside before you can answer, and you're just about to tell Bobby no, no fucking way is he coming, it's too damn dangerous, when he walks right up to you and grasps the amulet hanging from your neck.

"Show him this," he says, "it might help keep him calm."

Your amulet. You look down at it, eyes wide. It looks just like it did when you threw it in the trash all those years ago, and it warms you that you have it back. Heat spreads through your entire body, until you can feel your cheeks flushing with the kind of emotion you can't afford right now.

"I threw it away, how -"

"Cas," Bobby says. "He pulled it out of whatever garbage can you threw it into, not willing to let you give up on Sam yet."

You look at Cas, who's staring pointedly at the ground, and you don't blink back tears, you really don't. But you do grunt out a _thanks, man_ which makes him finally meet your gaze.

"Of course, Dean."

"Shall we get on with it then?" Tessa asks, but she's got a stupid, giant grin on her face.

You quickly hug Bobby, thank him also, and then follow Cas and Tessa through the maze to the same spot Cas took you to last time. Cas doesn't offer to cut your arm, make your sigil, or heal you this time; he just goes about doing his own while you confidently do yours. Once finished, he heals you while his own arm heals.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Yeah." You turn to Tessa. "You?"

"Always."

The encompassing light doesn't last long this time, and the stars above are gone and quickly replaced by the same dark storage closet as last time. Well, you assume it's the same one. You don't know why it wouldn't be.

This time you say nothing upon your arrival in another universe. You wait for Cas to say it's time to go, then you follow him quietly out of the closet, with Tessa bringing up the rear, and you're sure there's a joke in there somewhere.

When you get to Sam's room, he seems agitated, pacing and muttering to himself, his fingers pulling at and running through his ruffled hair. His clothes, the uniform white scrubs, are wrinkled and a little dirty. You step forward, and neither Cas or Tessa try to stop you.

"Sammy?"

He startles, turns to face you, and you can see the conflict in his eyes. "You came back."

"Yeah. How you doing?"

"I'm … confused." He begins pacing again. "Confused. Terrified. Excited. I don't know. I kept dreaming, and the dreams hurt, so now I'm not sleeping. That sounds like a logical way to stop the dreams, right? Stop sleeping, stop dreaming. Yeah, that's how it's got to be, I -"

"Sam." Cas steps forward. "Why don't you sit down."

He stares past Cas. "Who's the girl."

"This is Tessa," you say. "She's special, like Cas."

"You're an angel?"

"I'm a type of angel."

"You're not here to hurt me?"

Her eyes widen at his words, and your own heart breaks a little. This Sam looks just like the Sam you had in your life four years ago, but he currently sounds like the Sam you looked after growing up, the Sam who was justifiably scared of the monsters under the bed, the Sam who worried more than a kid should have to about where his next meal was going to come from.

You step forward and gently rest your hands on his shoulders. "Sam, look at me. You know me, right?"

"Dean."

"Yeah, but I'm not the Dean Lucifer killed, am I?"

He frowns. "You look like the Dean in my dreams."

You glance at Cas, eyes wild. "Tell me about your dreams."

"You - you keep dying. Over and over and over again - bad tacos, electrocution, falling piano, - every possible way there is for someone to die, you do it."

"Hit by a car? Slipped in the shower? Mauled by a Golden Retriever?"

"Ye - yeah."

You don't know what to say after that, so you dig the amulet out from under your shirt to show him. He stares at it until long after it's stopped swinging.

"I know this."

It's possible, you suppose, that the amulet exists in other universes, just like your baby does, but this isn't just any amulet, and Sam is looking at it with such familiarity, such longing …

"Christmas," he finally mutters, then shakes his head. "But I never … did I? No, I would remember that. It's important, isn't it? _Special_. Dad didn't deserve it, so - no. Dad was good up until the day he died, of course he deserved it. Except he lied, so I gave it to you. But that doesn't make any sense -"

He continues, but you can't watch anymore. You turn to Cas and Tessa. "Do something, _please_."

Cas steps forward and places a calming hand on Sam's arm. Sam immediately stops talking, takes his fixated gaze off the amulet, and looks at Cas. And smiles.

"Hey, Cas."

"Hello, Sam. I was just wondering, do you remember the first time we met?"

"Of course. It was here, in the middle of the night, and I pulled a gun on you - wait, that's not right." He laughs to himself. "I'm not allowed a gun in here! It was at that weird motel on Halloween. Oh man, I was such a dork that day. Of course, you did that weird blood-on-the-walls thing and left not long after."

You frown at that, before realising Sam's gone from the reality he currently lives in, his real reality, and back again. But that's okay. It's just more proof that he is your Sam. He might not realise it yet, but you knew it, and now Cas knows it, too. Cas meets your gaze and blinks quickly.

"Dean, I - I'm sorry. I've been here multiple time, and I never -"

"It's okay, Cas. You didn't know." You quickly glance at Sam, who's muttering what sounds like an exorcism to himself, then back at Cas. "Can you fix him?"

"Honestly? I don't know. He seems more insane now than he ever has before."

"That could be because of what's happening," Tessa says, stepping forward. "He's clearly getting some memories back, but because he wasn't entirely sane to begin with, it's just making things worse."

"What do you think we should do?" Cas asks her.

"I think we should heal him as best we can, and then get him the hell out of here. The sooner we have him back at Bobby's, the better."

"Is that okay with you, Dean?"

You nod. "Yeah, yeah, let's do it!"

He brushes your hand with his slightly. "You might want to wait outside for this. It … Sam's in a bad enough state that this might hurt him."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes you are," Tessa says. "Someone needs to keep look out and barricade us in and them out if someone turns up. You don't need to leave the room, but you need to stay out of the way."

You don't like it, but it sounds fair. "How long until next rounds?" you ask Cas.

"Minutes. Let's begin."

You go to the door to keep watch, but keep one eye and Sam the entire time. Cas speaks to him so quietly that you can't make out a single word, but Sam nods and smiles and chuckles. Then both Cas and Tessa place their hands on Sam's head, and he screams.

"Shit," you mutter, torn between keeping an eye out and going to Sam.

Sam's scream stops only seconds after it begins, but it was long enough for someone to come looking. They're at the end of the corridor, looking towards Sam's room with clear curiosity, but you move away before they can see you. You quietly close the door and turn to see Sam being held up by Cas, barely awake.

"Your sigil, Dean. Now."

You quickly make your sigil, right next to Tessa making hers, and keep an ear out for any footsteps that might head in your direction. It doesn't take long, but Tessa must hear them before you because her sigil is done in lightening speed, and she moves to block the door.

"Hurry," she hisses. "Cas still needs to make his and Sam's."

You hurry, so much so that you're left with tattered skin and a sigil you hope like hell will get you home. You move to take Sam from Cas, and suddenly everything just feels okay. Someone's knocking on the door, trying to get in, Cas is slicing Sam's arm open, and you're still bleeding heavily, but having Sam in your arms feels right.

Cas takes a little longer than Tessa to do both his and Sam's sigil, but then he's helping you with Sam, and Tessa's shoving a chair beneath the door handle, and you're all standing in front of your sigils. You grasp Sam's hand, press it onto the sigil, and relief floods you as he simply disappears.

Sam spends the next week sleeping. He doesn't wake once, but Cas and Tessa and even Gabriel all assure you it's okay, he's okay.

You don't believe them until he wakes up and looks at you. Even then, you keep things light, small conversations about nothing of significance. And you never leave him alone - if you can't sit with him, Cas or Bobby or Jody do. Sarah or Tessa or Rufus do.

Everyone seems a lot more welcoming to Sam than they ever were to you, and it makes you smirk.

He spends his second week in and out of … well, everything. When he sleeps he dreams and he has nightmares and then, with a little help from Gabriel, he sleeps peacefully. When he's awake he remembers his other life, then he remembers a flash from his life with you, and then it's a bit of both which makes him think he's going crazy.

And it makes you crazy, not being able to help him when he needs it most. The only thing that keeps you sane is the knowledge that _this is Sam_.

Things don't start getting better until week three, and even then it's only sometimes.

"How ya feeling?" you ask after he wakes from a nap on the couch.

"Water," he croaks. You give him his water bottle, and then, "I thought I killed you."

"Why would you think that?"

He frowns. "I'm not sure. I'm a little confused."

"What's the last thing you remember from before?"

"Lots of little things - some of them I'm not sure ever happened - but the last thing I remember in detail is Famine."

You knew. You knew he was your Sam, but you can't pretend you're not fucking _relieved_ when he says that.

"Well, a shit-load of stuff has happened since then," you tell him with a grin, figuring it's okay to start talking about the weirdness of your lives since he's the one who brought it up.

"I don't doubt it. For some reason I keep seeing another me kill you and Cas, but then I see _myself_ kill you and Cas and Bobby … then my head starts to hurt."

"Try not to think about it too much, okay? It'll all come back to you eventually."

"Yeah, yeah, okay." He nods, then frowns. "Where am I? This isn't the hospital. Where's my doctor? Where are my _pills_?"

"Sammy -"

"I - I need my pills. The doctors were right; I'm fucking crazy, I'm imagining things, I need my pills -"

Gabriel's hand presses to his forehead and he falls asleep. You look up at him, not sure if you should be thankful or pissed. He decides for you.

"I spent far too long torturing the poor kid by killing you every single day - the least I can do is take away some of his turmoil and give him some rest."

"You took some away?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's basically healing him the say way Tessa and Cas did, but a little more, you know? They healed his mind, restored his memories as best as they could, but …"

"He's still a little crazy."

"Only because his brain and soul are trying to heal. I just took some of that stress away, gave him a sense of calm for when he wakes up and tries to figure things out again."

"Oh. Well, thanks."

He just nods and heads into the kitchen, leaving you to watch Sam sleep again. And, as creepy as it is - something you know from experience, thanks, Cas - you can't help yourself. It's Sam. Your Sammy. You don't want to let him out of your sight again.

You do, though. Eventually. Just as the sun is setting you head outside to sit with Cas on the front porch.

"How's he doing?" he asks, handing you a gun to help clean.

"Better. Sometimes."

"It takes time."

"I know."

"It will take more time for him than it did you," he says, and you want to tell him that you already know this, but you are wondering why his memories haven't just come back like yours did. "He's been through much more than you, remember. His soul was shattered, while yours was just in hiding. His memories will return slowly and steadily, and that's a good thing."

"Too much at once might just break him even more, huh?"

"I believe so. Try to just give him time. Let it come to him. Let him come to you."

You nod. The sun sets just as you finish cleaning the last gun, but you don't want to go inside yet. So you don't. You shuffle closer to Cas, frown as he disappears and reappears in a flash, but smirk at the blanket he's holding.

"It's getting cold quickly," he says.

"You don't feel the cold."

"I know."

And it's one of those times where you're torn between the old you and the new you, where they come together to be the you that you are now. You take the side of the blanket Cas drapes over your shoulders, and snuggle into him, but you do it with an eye roll and a smartass comment.

"You're such a romantic."

He grins, his face up close to yours. "You love it."

"I guess."

But you do love it. Enough to stay there for the rest of the night. You don't move away when Jody brings you both out a beer and plate of roast chicken and veggies. You don't move to eat, even though you're starving and cuddling makes eating really fucking difficult. You don't move when Sam wakes up and stumbles out of the house to take a piss.

He stops right in front of you and Cas on his way back in, but when you look up, he's not even looking at you. His gaze is stuck on something behind you, and you turn to find Sarah collecting dishes from the living room. You grin, and Sam blushes when realises he's been caught.

"I kissed her once, didn't I? Outside an art museum or something?"

"Sure did."

He nods, a proud grin slowly making its way over his features. "Cool."

"Hey, Sam," Sarah calls from the doorway, "you feel like helping me with the dishes?"

Her voice is its usual soft, gentle tone, the kind that, if it came from anyone else - especially you - would sound like they were trying to be careful with him. But Sarah isn't like that. She's just being Sarah, and if it looks like she flushes slightly when you turn and cock an eyebrow at her, when that's not a big deal at all.

"Uh, yeah," Sam says. "Sure."

"He's already doing so much better," Cas says.

"Yeah."

"I know you're worried about him, and I know you have every reason to be, but …"

"But?"

He smiles. "But I'd very much like to take your mind off it tonight, if that's okay with you."

He slips a hot hand between your legs, scratches his nails along the inside of your thighs, and fuck yeah it's okay with you. You've been so obsessed with getting Sam better than you haven't given Cas nearly enough of your attention lately, and you vow then and there to change that. So you let Cas lead you upstairs, you let him kiss you and touch you and fuck you, until you're a whimpering mess in his bed, until your stomach is covered and your ass is filled with come.

And you lie there, Cas pressed against your side, and think about the future. Because you have one now, and so do Sam and Cas, and it'll probably involve hunting, just like your past, but if it's you and Sam and Cas - and maybe Sarah, who knows? - travelling the country in your baby, then you think you can handle that.

**THE END**


End file.
